"Yes--it might," he said. "But, you see, my dear girl, what troubles
me are the many thrusts he has, any one of which would be sure to go
home in me."
"You seem to have escaped, last night," she observed.
"Purely by his favor--even luck hadn't a finger in it."
"But discretion had," she remarked. "He would not dare kill you."
Lotzen shook his head.
"You don't seem to know this husband of yours. A Dalberg will dare
anything."
"Some Dalbergs," she scoffed.
The Duke flushed.
"I'm doing badly--you think me a coward," he said.
"Oh, no, Prince--only carefully discreet;" and she leaned back and
slowly fanned herself.
He looked at her for a bit.
"Are you aware, my dear, that you are conniving at--some might call it
instigating--the death of your husband?" he asked.
She smiled. "Am I?"
"It is a very extraordinary situation," he said, blowing a ring of
smoke and watching it circle away. "You are so tired of him you want
him killed; he seems equally tired of you, and, moreover, he is
determined to marry another woman. Yet, neither of you gets a
divorce--and you actually follow him here--and he, then, actually
refuses to let you depart."
The fan kept moving slowly.
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