``I burn up twenty times a day,'' he continued, with a wave of the hand to express the completeness of the process; ``there is nothing left.I see her, I speak to her, and I burn up.''
``Have you had many tete-a-tetes?'' I asked.
``Not one,'' he retorted fiercely; ``do you think there is any sense in the damnable French custom? I am an honorable man, and, besides, I am not equipped for an elopement.No priest in Louisiana would marry us.Isee her at dinner, at supper.Sometimes we sew on the gallery,'' he went on, ``but I give you my oath that I have not had one word with her alone.''
``An oath is not necessary,'' I said.``But you seem to have made some progress nevertheless.''
``Do you call that progress?'' he demanded.
``It is surely not retrogression.''
``God knows what it is,'' said Nick, helplessly, ``but it's got to stop.I have sent her an ultimatum.''
``A what?''
``A summons.Her father and mother are going to the Bertrands' to-night, and I have written her a note to meet me in the garden.And you,'' he cried, rising and slapping me between the shoulders, ``you are to keep watch, like the dear, careful, canny, sly rascal you are.''
``And--and has she accepted?'' I inquired.
``That's the deuce of it,'' said he; ``she has not.But Ithink she'll come.''
I stood for a moment regarding him.
``And you really love Mademoiselle Antoinette?'' Iasked.
``Have I not exhausted the language?'' he answered.
``If what I have been through is not love, then may the Lord shield me from the real disease.''
``It may have been merely a light case of--tropical enthusiasm, let us say.I have seen others, a little milder because the air was more temperate.''
``Tropical--balderdash,'' he exploded.``If you are not the most exasperating, unfeeling man alive--''
``I merely wanted to know if you wished to marry Mademoiselle de St.Gre,'' I interrupted.
He gave me a look of infinite tolerance.
``Have I not made it plain that I cannot live without her?'' he said; ``if not, I will go over it all again.''