"If I do--ah, these cobweb spinners! Good-by to Richard Van Kuyp and
dreams of glory." This note of harsh triumph snapped his weaving words.
"I don't believe you or your boasts," remarked Alixe, in her most
conventionally amused manner. "You are trying to scare me, and with this
hypnotic joke about Richard you have only hypnotized yourself. I mean to
tell Mr. Van Kuyp every bit of our conversation. I'm not frightened by
your vampire tales. You critics are only shadows of composers."
"Yes, but we make ordinary composers believe they are great," he replied
acridly.
"I'll tell this to Richard."
"He won't believe you."
"He shall--he won't believe _you_! Oh, Rentgen, how can you invent such
cruel things? Are you always so malicious? What do you mean? Come--what
do you expect?" She closed her eyes, anticipating an avowal. Why should
a man seek to destroy her faith in her husband, in love itself, if not
for some selfish purpose of his own? But she was wrong, and became
vaguely alarmed--at least if he had offered his service and sympathy in
exchange for her friendship, she might have understood his fantastic
talk.
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