"You accuse me of treason," she cried. "Oh, what injustice, what--"
"I accuse you of nothing, save of having deceived us all, and of being
very much _deplacee_ here. The deception shall continue, as far as the
others are concerned. You came to us, as a man. You shall go as
one. Your secret shall be absolutely respected, by me. But, madam,
understand one thing clearly."
"What is that?" she demanded, still trembling with indignation.
"The fact that you are a woman has no weight with me, so far as your
persuading me to let you remain of the party may be concerned. Women
have never counted in my life. Their wiles, arts, graces, tears, mean
nothing to me. Their entreaties seem futile. Their arguments appear
like trivial puerilities.
"Other men are sometimes influenced by such. I tell you now, madam, I
shall not be. Your entreaties will have no weight. When the time
comes for you to leave _Nissr_, I trust you will go quietly, with no
distressing scene."
A certain grimness showed in the woman's face, making it sternly
heroic as the face of Medea or Zenobia. She answered:
"Do you think me the type that entreats, that sheds tears, that
exercises wiles?"
"We won't discuss your personality, madam! This interview is drawing
to an end.
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