Chapter III: Part 3

Mademoiselle had removed her hat, and stood resting her head against the latticed window, gazing up the path that he had taken.

She turned as I entered, and stood looking towards me, and yet not with so very much wonderment, for suddenly she broke into a smile.

"You have entered to rest a while," she said. "You are welcome; we are not altogether strangers, for I have heard so much of you."

"Heard of me?" I queried, rather sharply, for this girl seemed to have the manners of such as myself.

"Certainly," she replied, still smiling; "you are the _grand dame_ whose carriage broke down, and who is so charmed with the rustic delights of Lecrese that she prolongs her stay indefinitely," and there was a tinge of becoming satire in her voice.

"How do you know that?"

"You are the only one who would walk in the woods in a costume fit only for driving in the Bois de Boulogne," she answered, and I flushed with annoyance, for she looked so cool, while I was hot with the glowing of the sun and the burning of my temper.

"We cannot all pretend to rustic innocence, mademoiselle."

"Nor succeed, if we did, madame," she retorted, and then the flash of anger left her face. "You will forgive me," she cried, taking my hand. "I forget myself; you will rest and take tea with me."

I would have bargained my soul for a cup of tea, but I ignored the offer, and continued, "I have come to speak with you on a matter of importance."

"Be seated," she answered, coldly, and she, too, sat and waited.

She plagued me because of her calmness and dignity, the air of superiority she assumed towards me.

"Don't you think this farce has been played long enough, mademoiselle?" I asked, scornfully, and she merely raised her eyebrows, and maintained her unruffled composure.

"This Arcadian love-making," I cried, reddening with vexation, "this whispering of paradise, this thistle-down entanglement. Don't you think it is time to say good-bye?"

"Quite," she answered, with supreme contempt. "Good-bye," and she returned to the window.

Then something--who can follow the subtle changes that occur in a woman's heart?--something came into mine, and instead of anger I felt a pang of pity for the girl who so disdained me. I walked towards her, and laid my hand upon her arm.

"You know it must be so," I said.

"Yes, it must be so."

"He is of one world and you of another."

"You know that?" she said, in surprise.

"Yes, I know who you are, and who he is. Your words in the wood an hour since were romance, and romance is out of date. It is impossible. Your paths lie asunder: you must take yours, and leave him his."

I had placed my arm around her shoulder, and somehow the contempt I felt for this play-actress had vanished, and my eyes were misty as she turned hers towards me. Then in a second she was crying softly in my arms.

"You will say good-bye," I whispered.

"Yes," she answered, her face still hidden, "I will say good-bye."

"To-day?"

"Yes, to-day--within an hour he will return, and then, with courage taken into both my hands, I will say good-bye. I have been sadly foolish, and now I will break his heart because I wasted wisdom until too late."

I did not tell her that men's hearts, and the hearts of princes in particular, do not break so easily. Neither did I say that the heart that fluttered against my own was nearer breaking than his would ever be, but I kissed her again, and so we waited until we heard his Highness's whistle, as he approached the gate, and, gaining no response, walked up to the door and knocked.

"Come in," I cried, for her permission was so choked that it could not reach him, and he entered and stood gazing in annoyed bewilderment.

"You, madame?"

"I, monsieur."

"What does this mean?"

She walked across and took his hand, holding it tightly between both her own.

"Only this, dear," she whispered, "we have had our dream, and now the awakening comes. It was all my fault, and you must leave me, and forget we ever met--but, no, do not forget; remember me as the wickedest woman whom you have ever known. The one who falsely won your love, and then spurned it, and left you with only a bitter knowledge of the evil of the world."

"You mean that you have fooled me, and do not love me?" he said, stonily.

"Yes, I have fooled you," she answered, and she seemed to shrink beneath the lie that her love told her would teach him the sooner to forget.

"And you do not love me?" he repeated, his face growing gray in the glowing sunlight.

"I do not love you," she answered, and the boy believed her.

"Good-bye," he said; "shall I murmur my gratitude for the few hours of happiness in my fool's paradise?"

Then, while the sneers still hovered around his lips, while I counted all was ended, she flung her arms around him, and drew his head down, until his cheek touched hers.

"Not so, my own," she sobbed, "not so; we must part, but not like this. I cannot live if you should think me so worthless. We must part; you must go one way and I the other, but I love you, dear, I love you."

"Mademoiselle," I cried, sharply, "this is mere childishness, this is the weakest folly;" and she, with her eyes glistening, turned again from him, and answered, wearily:

"Yes, 'tis folly, 'tis madness--good-bye."

"No," he cried, wildly, "you shall not go!"

"She must--she shall," I answered, angrily.

"Are you bereft of reason that you would so disgrace yourself--your State?"

"It is no disgrace to marry the noblest woman this world has seen," he retorted, hotly, and I admired him for the blaze of passion in his eyes.

"You speak like a child," I cried. "She says good-bye because she knows that you must part. Prince Ferdinand of Elvirna cannot wed a nobody."

"Prince Ferdinand!" she gasped, and, stepping back a pace, gazed through her tears into his face.

"Eh! Prince Ferdinand," he answered, in scorn, "and curse the day that made me so. I am no struggling student. Curse the day that made me Prince, I say! Curse the day!"

"Prince Ferdinand," she repeated, and I thought the girl must be bewitched, for she smiled.

I caught him by the arm and drew him towards me, for I could see by the look on her face that she was no scheming adventuress.

"If there be disgrace," I cried, witheringly, "it is yours. You came with deceit and falsehood. You won her heart, pretending to be such as she, no better in the world's eyes, and no worse."

"Were I Prince a thousand times over, and a thousand times on that," he answered, softly, "I would give it all for her."

"Happily, there must be two to the bargain, and she is too true a woman to hold you, when she knows it means your social ruin."

"On the contrary, madame; now I know he is what he is I will marry him."

Her face was wreathed in smiles, smiles that had chased away the mist of sorrow's tears, and I shuddered as I realized that I had brought about the very end that I came to prevent.

"You will marry him?" I gasped.

"_Oui_, madame," she replied, and courtesied to the ground. "You know me. Are we not what the world calls eligibles?"

I could only gaze in bewilderment.

"Tell the Prince who I am," she cried, with a roguish laugh; and then, as I still stood silent, she courtesied again to the ground before him.

"Rene, only daughter of the Compte de Pontiers, may it please your Highness," she murmured.

He would have taken her to his arms in a rush of delight, but she ceremoniously waved him back.

"Present us with all due form and etiquette, madame."

It was a strange introduction, for three times did they bow with court formality to each other, and then the rustic lovers came to life again, and he clasped her in his arms.

"If you knew he was such an exalted personage, and knew me not to be a poor actress upon a visit, as I pretended," Rene cried, turning towards me, "why did you insist that I must break away from happiness because of my position? Surely we are what our world calls eligibles?"

And while I, in a generous instant, would have confessed the whole truth, a flush came over her face.

"My father must never know of this foolish masquerade," she said, gravely.

"You never met Prince Ferdinand until two minutes since," I answered. "Is it not so? We will say that his Highness's infatuation for an actress died the natural death of most infatuations; and then, a little later, make known his coming alliance with no less a lady than Rene, daughter of the Compte de Pontiers."

So ended Prince Ferdinand's entanglement. So ended my romantic mission that was such a successful failure; and now sometimes when I admire that diamond necklace I wonder if an accusation might not be formulated against me for obtaining jewels under false pretences. And yet--why?

A DEAL WITH CHINA

For the moment the exhilarating fascination of "Le Pole Nord" had absolutely enthralled the heart of feminine Paris.

To skate for an hour and then sit and sip one's coffee, to hold an informal reception among one's own particular enemies, or to flirt with one's dearest friends for the remainder of the afternoon, was now the amusement upon which Society had set its approving hall-mark, and for once in the way the craze that fashionable Paris had smiled upon was something in the nature of pleasure, and not a task.

It was delight to glide across the ice to the strains of that excellent orchestra; it was premature paradise to know that one's tailor-made gown, edged with fur to maintain an illusive suggestion of winter, need not await a frost before it could pique one's bosom companion; it was new life to feel one's blood tingling with the glow of health and new elation; to realize that one had successfully mastered the intricacies of double grape-vines and Canadian eights; and it was fashionable, for did not the Duchess de Maussapet, the Countess Venezia, and all others we poor women have been taught to imitate, grace the assembly almost every afternoon?

We had danced a quadrille upon the ice, and as the final bars died away my eyes met those of my diplomatic friend Monsieur Roche, as he leaned against a pillar, and there was a look upon his face, a peculiar gesture as he bowed to me, that told me why so staid a man had joined the frivolities of "Le Pole Nord."

Yet it went against my heart to dismiss my companion, for he was the most handsome instructor that "Le Pole Nord" possessed, an Apollo in his fur-trimmed jacket and jaunty cap, and all my feminine friends were dying to skate with him. It went against my heart to give him up to a woman who would only bore him.

He sighed as he unfastened my skates, and I sighed too, and walked to where Monsieur Roche was waiting.

And the poor man did look so absurd in his silk hat and conventional frock-coat compared with my late companion; but that man was now skating with a woman I detested, and I promptly dismissed him from my thoughts.

"I have looked everywhere for you," Monsieur Roche exclaimed, as he took my hand.

"There is only one place where I could be, monsieur, and that is here. To be away from 'Le Pole Nord' at this time of the day is to be out of the world. Would you care to cultivate the art with my assistance?"

"I wish for your guidance over something even more slippery than ice," he answered, as we seated ourselves upon a lounge.

"Well?"

"You know that we are entertaining an envoy from China, who presumably tours the world on a voyage of pleasure and enlightenment."

"His Excellency Hun Sun?"

"Precisely." Monsieur Roche leaned towards me until his lips almost touched my ear. "This journey of pleasure is a subterfuge. The Ambassador comes from China to France."

"And the object of his visit?"

"To gain a pledge from France for defensive, or even offensive, protection."

I pursed my lips, for who in the world did not know that England and Russia would have to be reckoned with?

"There are powers in China," Monsieur Roche continued, "who have offered such inducements to tempt this protective alliance that we cannot resist them. Who those powers may be, whether the Emperor himself or those who do not love him, concerns you nothing. Hun Sun came to me and gave the message by word of mouth, but because of the secrecy which must be maintained in such a matter, no writing was to pass between France and China which, if by any chance intercepted, could be brought up against"--Monsieur Roche paused--"those who had sent him."

"We civilized nations are far behind the heathen in diplomacy," I murmured.

"Far behind," he acquiesced. "Many a man would be happier if he had never learned to write. There was to be no writing between us that could incriminate. Hun Sun gave me the message, asked for a witness, and before that witness, who was Gaspard Levive, my chief secretary, handed me a small gold seal. If France agreed, our answer was to be a mere interchange of diplomatic courtesies, sealed with that seal, and all would be understood."

"It seems over-elaborated and cumbersome caution, _mon ami_, for surely the man trusted to bring the message could be trusted to take the answer."

"Except that as it is he can never know the answer, _ma chere_. However, it is not the methods of this diplomacy that I wished to consult you upon, but this: when his Excellency handed me the seal, I placed it upon the table by my side; five minutes afterwards he left, and when I turned to the table it was gone, and no one but ourselves had been near it. By 'ourselves' I mean Hun Sun, myself, and Gaspard Levive. There seems to be no possible reason for his Excellency to steal what he need not have delivered; there would be no sense in my concealing what no one need know I have received, and so--"

"There is only Gaspard?" I sharply interjected, and I felt my pulses throb with indignation, for who knew better than I, since the affair of the abducted Ambassador, that the man I was honored in calling my dearest friend was as true as any who served our country.

"There is only Gaspard," monsieur repeated.

"Then you insinuate that your secretary, my friend, has stolen the seal?" I cried, angrily.

"I insinuate nothing," he answered. "I come to you, because you have solved many difficult problems, to help me in this."

"And I refuse, monsieur. You are a poor diplomat to attempt to gain a woman's sympathy by attacking one whom she esteems and admires."

"I think not, for I have already aroused your deepest interest in my unfortunate position."

"Indeed!"

"Certainly; because one is implicated whom," Monsieur Roche glanced into my face and smiled, "you esteem and admire."

"I repeat that you are a poor diplomat," I cried, angrily, "and I will prove it. Because you have chosen to insult my friend, because you have chosen to insinuate that he is a traitor and a thief, I renounce my position. I refuse this commission and all others, and I have the honor to wish you good-day and good-bye. Now, monsieur, have I proved that you are a poor diplomat? A child in what you count yourself a master?"

I had risen, and stood looking down upon him, and I felt there was a tinge of scorn and perhaps contempt in my glance, but he took my hand and gently drew me down to the lounge beside him.

"You have only proved," he said, "what a woman's true regard is worth. _Mon Dieu!_ how could any man be a traitor whom you have placed so high in your esteem?"

"Then I have misunderstood you," I quickly answered. "I take back to myself all that I have said. I become a penitent, I accept this and all other commissions, and think you, monsieur, absolutely the best and nicest man in Paris."

He looked at me with almost a twinkle in his eyes, and then, "Am I not a good diplomat?" he mildly interjected.

"You are a most unscrupulous politician," I answered. "You never suspected Gaspard?"

"Never. I was merely quickening your interest in the position. Am I not a good diplomat?"

"You're the most irritating middle-aged man in France."

My companion shrugged his shoulders, smiled for a moment, and then leaned towards me. "I did not steal it, and Gaspard did not." He raised his eyebrows.

"Hun Sun stole it himself."

"Precisely my own opinion," Monsieur Roche murmured, appreciatively. "He, although a chosen envoy to France, is against us. He was bound to deliver his message, but in the same instant he rendered it futile. We cannot own that we have lost the seal, and without it we cannot accept."

"And your object in seeking me at such an hour is to ask me to regain the seal?"

"Yes, _ma chere_, you are the one woman in the world who is brilliant enough to do it, because--"

"Not so much sugar, if you please, monsieur. Thank you;" and I took my cup from his hand, leaving him to apply my remark in its double sense, and smiled with satisfaction because I noticed that Paul was cutting figures and flourishes in solitude. I knew that empty-headed woman would bore him.

"But I may count upon your assistance?" Monsieur le Premier plaintively interjected.

"To regain the seal is utterly impossible," I quietly answered.

"Impossible?"

"Altogether. The man who could rob you before your very eyes is too clever to allow himself to be robbed in turn. I do not care for missions without a hope of success. There is but one thing you can do: bribe Hun Sun to come over to the side of France."

"Unfortunately, Hun Sun has departed for the land where bribery is unknown."

I sat forward in my seat in amazement; even monsieur's diplomatic manner of putting it did not completely hide his meaning.

"When did it happen?"

"Late last night. He returned from his appointment with me to his suite at L'Imperatrice Hotel, and, after transacting some business with his secretary Ling Wen, retired for the night, and forever. Living diplomats mourn a talented man, who has gone to join the politicians who have preceded him--or, at least, some of them."

"And that being so, _mon ami_, I undertake the mission. You may make your plans, for I promise you shall have the seal within twenty-four hours--unless," I added, "it was never taken to the hotel."

"You mean it?" he cried, a flush of pleasure chasing the sallow lines of worry from his face.

"In spite of cheap masculine cynicism, _mon cher_, a woman sometimes means what she says. I think I can regain it for you. Where is the--"

"The body was removed secretly in the early morning to the Chinese Embassy."

"And no one knows of his Excellency's death?"

"Outside those pledged to silence, no one."

"Let me see," I murmured, reflectively; "his secretary's name is--?"

"Ling Wen, with, say, twenty odd additions."

"Ling Wen will be sufficient. At seven o'clock to-night, monsieur, you will send an imperative message that you must see Ling Wen at once, and--No, that is all you need do. You will not skate? Then, _mon ami, au revoir_."

It was ten minutes past seven when my _coupe_, drew up at the door of L'Imperatrice Hotel, and I requested to be conducted to the apartments of his Excellency Hun Sun; and I felt pleased with myself, for my much-tried milliner had obliterated volumes of misdeeds with a gown and cloak that were perfection. A shade of perplexity gathered upon the face of the waiter as he heard my request, and that perplexity was deepened in the features of monsieur le manager, when he was called and listened to my desire.

"His Excellency Hun Sun had only just departed."

I had serious thoughts of recommending that man to Monsieur Roche as an uncultivated diplomat.

"And"--he seemed prepared to sink into the ground at the humiliation of disappointing me--"his Excellency's secretary, Ling Wen, had also just been called away."

"It did not matter; I would wait;" and because my own countrymen can refuse a pretty woman nothing, I gained my point, and was conducted by the gentleman himself to the suite of the envoy, to await, as he again so diplomatically put it, "the one who should first return."

There were three rooms--a reception-room, a bedroom, and a study--and I trembled with excitement as I realized that the object of my visit, the stolen seal, was somewhere in those rooms, and in a few minutes I might be passing out of the hotel, and all would be over.

An obliging bunch of keys lay invitingly upon the study table, and rapidly I opened drawer after drawer in that apartment and the bedroom, and became more and more irritated, as my search proved ever fruitless.

The reception-room only was left, and my vexation evaporated in a laugh of approaching triumph, as I realized that a cunning man would hide what he had to hide in the most open room, and not in the most private.

There was only an ormolu writing-table with fancy drawers that refused to yield to the persuasion of my keys, but a broad-bladed Oriental knife tempted me, and, thrusting it into the edge, I pressed upon it, and forced the front from the drawer.

It came with a sharp snap, and a quiet chuckle caused me to turn with a start.

His Excellency's secretary, Ling Wen, was sitting in a chair, his hands upon his knees, smiling blandly at me.

I did not speak. For the first time in my life I could not find the right words to say, but could only gaze into the face of Ling Wen, who sat there, his long fingers spread out over the knees of his yellow, embroidered silk robe. I glanced at the clock. I had been at work over an hour.

"You are searching for something," he said, quietly--"pray continue;" and the invitation was too gracious not to be accepted. I swept the contents of the drawer upon the carpet.

There were only a few bundles of official-looking papers. I pushed them aside with my shoe and frowned in annoyance.

"So it is not a paper you seek, madame?" Ling Wen suavely murmured. "That is good."

"It is a trifle," I nervously answered; "a trinket that I mislaid when I stayed here last."

Ling Wen, with his hand upon his chin, nodded; but I did not like the nod, for with it oozed a smile that seemed more a compliment to my readiness of invention than belief in my veracity.

"A trinket?" he said, rising from his seat, his sharp, narrow eyes directed full upon me.

"One I valued greatly, your Excellency."

"Women are ever careless of what they value most," he answered; "allow me to help you."

And then I could not restrain a half-cry of annoyance, for he commenced his search where I should have done an hour ago; and taking a Sevres vase from the mantel-piece, turned it upside down, and something glittering in the light rolled out upon the carpet.

It was the seal I sought, a large ruby cut with a monogram and mounted in filigree gold.

"You have found it," he said, with a guileless smile, as I picked it up.

"I can never thank you sufficiently," I replied, and then, as he shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly, I, in the elation of my victory, bestowed my most dazzling smile upon him and begged him to forgive my unceremonious intrusion.

"You ask too much," he replied, with a glance that made me feel how well I was suited by my gown--"you ask too much, madame; my privilege must be ever to remember it."

The seal was in my hand as he gently placed my cloak around my shoulders, in my left hand as he raised my right to his lips, still there as he bowed again and again to me, and I walked towards the door, tried it, and found it locked.

"The door is locked!" I cried, sharply.

"Exactly," he murmured, blandly; "the door is locked."

I walked across the room again, and, throwing back my cloak from my shoulders, sank upon a lounge, while he seated himself opposite me, and, with his hands again spread out upon his knees, watched and waited for me to speak; but I would not, and presently he broke the silence.

"I caught sight of that trinket when it dropped," he said, smoothly, "and it seemed to me that I have seen it once before in the possession of my master, his Excellency Hun Sun."

"Well?" I demanded, spitefully, for it was bitter to see my victory dwindling to failure, to know that I had been frustrated, and my boast to Monsieur Roche was idle.

"Well, what then?"

"That being so, I ask to examine it more closely."

"And if I refuse, your Excellency," I sneered. "Even the Chinese, I presume, do not use force to a woman."

"Even the French," he answered, "do not, I presume, permit barefaced theft."

"I tell you the trinket is mine, and that should be sufficient. If you knew me you dare not doubt my word."

"You are but a grudging courtier of your own charms," he answered, with a ceremonious bow. "Who could once see Madame Lerestelle and ever forget her?"

I placed the seal upon a Moorish stool by my side, and he nodded approvingly.

"Let us consider the matter from a diplomatic point of view, your Excellency."

"I have the most profound respect for diplomacy, madame, for I am ignorant even of its rudiments."

The idea that first came to me when Monsieur Roche recounted the incident had grown in my mind until it became fixed as the truth. I determined to force this bland heathen into submission, or at least acquiescence.

"Ling Wen."

"Madame."

I leaned impressively towards him and sank my voice to a whisper.

"Why did you remove Hun Sun?"

Only a slight in-drawing of the lips followed my question, a twitch for the fraction of a second passed over his expressionless features.

"You are aware, then, that his Excellency is dead?"

"Yes. Why did you murder him?"

"This is childish, madame, and outside the point at issue."

"Neither the one nor the other, Ling Wen, for because I know this you are going to hand me that seal and conduct me to my carriage."

"You will be pleased to prove it, madame."

"Undoubtedly. Hun Sun was sent with a message to be delivered by word of mouth to France. A message that dare not be written."

Ling Wen nodded ever so slightly.

"It may be so, madame; I do not know."

"A man who knew what Hun Sun did was too dangerous to be allowed to return to China, for he might hold even the Emperor himself within the hollow of his hand."

"I follow your reasoning, madame; it is excellent."

"The life of a man in China is always counted as insignificant. Is it not so, Ling Wen?"

"Who could be so ungallant as to contradict you?" he suavely responded.

"Hun Sun was sent with the message, and you, Ling Wen, were to kill him when he had delivered it."

"Well, madame?"

"Because I know this, you will give me the seal and conduct me to my carriage."

Ling Wen shook his head.

"No, madame, the price is too high for a series of deductions, clever though they be. His Excellency died from natural causes."

"You are sure the physicians will say so?"

"Their opinion will not be asked. The French government cannot insult our illustrious dead. Hun Sun is dead. That is sufficient."

"But because of the part you have played, Ling Wen, I demand the seal as the price of my silence."

He rose from his seat and paced the room, and when he spoke again his voice, for a Chinaman, had grown strangely incisive.

"I should not be swayed by a threat, madame, but if I can grant you a favor, I will."

"Call it by which name you please," I cried, seeing signs of his wavering.

"Why do you want the seal?"

"Are you for France or Russia, Ling Wen?"

"I am for China," he answered, quietly; "even a heathen has patriotism. Why do you want the seal?"

I sat and pondered. How much must I tell him, and how much hold back? I looked anxiously at the seal as it lay upon the stool, and he interpreted my glance.

"For the moment," he said, "it is on neutral ground, and shall remain so until we have diplomatically solved the problem."

I still hesitated; but there was no other way, and so perforce I took the only one open to me.

"It is to seal an alliance between France and China."

"Ah!" He smiled with delight, nodded his head approvingly, and spread out his long fingers, as though he warmed them at a fire.

I took new courage to my heart.

"Hun Sun delivered it to Monsieur Roche, and the instant after purloined it and rendered his mission futile. Hun Sun was in the pay of Russia."

"Ss's the dog!" Ling Wen hissed; "I always suspected it. The dog!"

"But you, Ling Wen, will make amends for the deed of this traitor?"

"Gladly," he cried; "the neutrality is broken." He bent over, took the seal in his fingers, and I extended my hand to receive it.

"You are as clever as you are beautiful," he said, "and deserve to succeed, but unfortunately you cannot."

He dropped the seal into the open pocket of his loose silk robe.

"What do you mean?" I cried, starting in passionate amazement from my seat.

"You have much to learn, madame, before you become a skilled diplomat; you are too trustful, too confiding, and, as others of your lovely sex, you talk too much. I, too, am in the pay of Russia."

I drew my breath through my closed teeth, and clinched my hands, for I could have killed him as he stood and blandly smiled. I had been tricked and fooled. I had failed, and worse than failed, for I had dealt an irreparable blow at my own country.

"You play a rash game, Ling Wen," I cried, with cold rage.

"But a successful one, madame."

"France's representations to Peking will secure your disgrace for the part you have played in this affair."

"Tush! France can make no representations with his Excellency Hun Sun's mission unanswered."

"We can at least show how we have been cajoled."

"And if it were believed, the desire of China for alliance with a power which had proved so stupid would vanish; but it would not be believed; they would say you were scheming for delay. You had better take defeat with a pleasant grace."

I smothered my rage, and smiled a thin smile.

"Very well, Ling Wen," I answered; "I will learn diplomacy from you, and put a good face upon the matter."

"It is the truest wisdom to accept the inevitable with complacency," he murmured.

"You may see me to my carriage."

"I would that our ambitions were the same," he said, as he unlocked and opened the door. "I am humiliated in refusing you."

"Where there are victors there must be vanquished," I answered, as one who spoke a platitude, for I was disheartened and wretched at my failure.

He took my hand, and raised it to his lips.

"_Au revoir_, madame."

"Perhaps France can pay more than Russia, Ling Wen?" and I looked at him inquiringly.

"No country can pay better than Russia for secret service, madame," he answered; and then a dull sparkle came into his narrow eyes, and he pushed the door to, and laid his hand upon my arm.

"Sit down," he said, and I walked with him, my eyes cast down upon the carpet, fearful lest he should see the triumph glowing in them; with a grain of fortune, the victory yet was mine.

The inspiration came to me, clear as the noonday sun, when he opened the door for me to leave.

I trembled lest he should detect the new color rising in my cheeks, and with my glance still cast down, I took my seat again, and waited.

He stood beside me, and rested his long, thin fingers lightly on my shoulder.

"No country can pay better than Russia for secret service, madame," he repeated, with emphasis.

"It is not to be thought of," I answered, hesitatingly.

"Think what Russia would pay for your services, you in the heart of the secrets of diplomatic France."

"Not sufficient to destroy my patriotism," I said, lest it should seem that I yielded too easily.

"The ardor of one's patriotism regulates one's price," he responded. "Think what would they not pay you."

"Tush!" I cried; "this is foolishness. You wish to tempt me to place myself in your power, for fear I may yet prove dangerous. What authority do you possess to make promises for Russia? It is childish; I will go."

I moved to rise from my seat, but he restrained me.

"You are a clever woman," he said, "and that is why I would have you on our side. I tell you frankly that your value would be incalculable to Russia--to the Russian party in China. On behalf of Russia, I can make the payment whatever you desire."

"It is difficult to believe, _mon ami_," I replied, with a laugh, and I looked him in the face now, for a little excitement was pardonable. "The protestations you made earlier in the evening have proved too false to inspire confidence."

"That may be so," he exclaimed, with a quiet chuckle, "but if I can show you an official document of the Russian government proclaiming me what I say I am, giving me such powers as I say I possess, what then?"

"Then we will discuss the position diplomatically," I answered. "Where is the paper?"

"In the adjoining room," he said, and again I bent my eyes upon the ground.

"It is made jointly to Hun Sun and myself. We were the two great Russian allies in China, and we, by strange coincidence, were chosen to deliver this message to France. Your deduction that I killed Hun Sun, although clever, is wrong. The Emperor of China does not guard his secrets quite so barbarously. Hun Sun was advanced in years, and died a natural death."

"Then let me see this paper and I will believe you, and perhaps--"

He smiled and turned away from me, and I rose from my seat.

"I will bring it to you."

"We are not allies yet, Ling Wen, and I do not trust you. I will come."

"As you will," he answered. "I admire your caution, for it tells me how invaluable you will be to us;" and with a bow he crossed the room, and held the door of the inner apartment open for me to enter.

I half advanced, paused irresolute, and then drew back.

"You may precede me," I said. "I will again be candid. I do not trust you;" and I stood aside for him to pass, and took the handle of the door, which opened towards me, in my left hand.

He laughed quietly again, and turned and faced me.

"An excess of caution is bad diplomacy, madame," he said, "for it creates suspicion. If I did not know how impossible it was, I should think you still had designs upon the seal."

With another soft chuckle he passed on and entered the doorway; and then like a flash, the instant his back was turned, I caught his silk embroidered robe in my right hand, and with my left flung to the door and locked it.

There was a guttural exclamation from within as he tried to tear his gown free, but my glance fell upon the Oriental knife that I had used before, and, holding the silk in my hand, with a slash I cut it through, and the seal, which lay in the corner of the deep pocket, was again in my possession.

Ling Wen was beating furiously upon the panels, so I took the precaution of locking the outer door as I departed, and descended the stairs, elated with a feeling of supreme contentment, for was not my promise to Monsieur Roche amply and well fulfilled?

MONSIEUR ROCHE'S DEFEAT

"_Mon ami_, you jest!"

"I never jest," Monsieur Roche snappishly replied. "Before the week is through Paris will have a sensation, the ministry will be defeated--more than defeated, disgraced. I have been deceived, miserably betrayed, and by the man I trusted most. A friend of yours, madame--Gaspard Levive."

"It is not true," I cried; and the blood mounted to my cheeks in anger, for truly Gaspard Levive was a friend of mine, one whom I delighted to call my greatest friend.

"It is only too true," Monsieur Roche gravely answered. "I am disgraced, and the young fool is ruined. At least not ruined," he bitterly continued: "doubtless he will be rewarded by the new ministry."

"If this be the prelude to a commission, monsieur, I refuse it."

"There is no commission, madame; the day is hopelessly lost. I have been betrayed by my own secretary."

We had met crossing the Place de la Concorde, and had stayed talking by the Luxor Obelisk, and now I deliberately obscured Monsieur Roche with my sunshade, and gazed up the vista of the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. Suddenly I turned, closed my parasol with a vicious snap, and looked angrily into his face.

"I accept the commission, monsieur; tell me all."

He placed his hand upon my arm.

"You are angry, _ma chere_, and so am I. You are wounded, and I am also. Let it pass; there is no commission."

"Some mystery," I cried.

"No mystery and no solution; all is too wretchedly clear. You are anxious to defend Gaspard, so am I; but it is useless; he stands self-condemned, and we had best forget his very existence."

"Tell me," I said, stonily.

"He has stolen a document from my safe and sold it to those who can, who will, use it to disgrace and overthrow me."

"It is false."

"A month ago France was insulted--deliberately insulted in such a manner that it became almost a declaration of war. It was equivalent to a challenge for war, and yet one that we dare not take up. War to France would mean ruin. She would inevitably lose, and sink to the condition of a second-rate power."

"Well!"

"We decided we could not go to war. We must diplomatically ignore the slur, at least until we were more prepared; but it was a matter for France, and not for the ministry alone. If our course of action became known, it might be the first step towards revolution. There was no help for it, and I privately conferred with the head of the opposition, my greatest political enemy, Monsieur Desormes."

"One of the most unscrupulous men in France."

"One of the greatest diplomats."

"The terms are frequently synonymous, monsieur. Proceed."

"Wonderful to relate, he was with us. War was impossible--we dare not declare it, we must accept the distasteful position--but I insisted that his support of that policy should be given me in writing, that he should bind himself to an adhesion to our views, so that he could not withdraw; and he agreed, and wrote a confidential document in which he declared that he stood firm with us for peace. That document has been stolen from my safe by Gaspard Levive, and returned to Desormes, who now laughs in my face, sneeringly announcing that he will publicly charge my ministry with degrading France in the eyes of Europe, and crush us."

"You go too fast, monsieur; why stolen by Gaspard Levive?"

"Because he for a few hours had the key of my safe in his possession. It is he or I."

"I would sooner suspect you, monsieur."

"Last night I left my keys with him. This morning before I arrived he had a mysterious visitor, a woman--"

"Well, monsieur, what of that?"

"When I opened the safe the letter was gone, and a blank sheet of paper substituted; that is all."

"And his explanation?"

"He refuses any. Declines even to say who the visitor was, or why she called."

"I see no case against him," I said, soberly, but my heart was chilling because of this unknown woman.

"That is not all," Monsieur Roche continued, "for I know who she was--the Countess Renaze, the closest friend of Mlle. Desormes, one of the most bewitching women in Paris, beautiful enough to tempt any man from his duty. I found this handkerchief with her monogram and crest in his room."

"Good-day, monsieur."

"Good-bye, _ma chere_; we've both made a mistake--good-bye."

I did not want to talk with my diplomatic friend; I did not want to talk with any one. I left him, and walked towards the Boulevard des Capucines, the words ringing in my ears, "We've both made a mistake." I hated myself, I hated diplomats, and I wondered if I was so wretched because Gaspard was false to France or because he had been false to me.

Then as I strolled, a little scene came back to my mind that I had witnessed that morning upon the platform of the Gare du Nord. The Countess Renaze was departing for London. I could see her now as she leaned from the carriage window. So it could not be she who had called upon Gaspard, and Monsieur Roche's reasoning was at fault in that particular. Why not in more than that; why not in all?

But my next thought condemned Gaspard almost beyond appeal, for I remembered that, as the train started, the Countess dropped her lace handkerchief from between her fingers, and, too late to hand it back, her friend, Mlle. Desormes, the daughter of Monsieur Roche's enemy, picked it up. It was she who had called upon Gaspard immediately afterwards, and had coaxed or tricked him into delivering the paper to her; and I, who would have given all to prove Gaspard's innocence, had found evidence to condemn him even more strongly.

I stopped in sudden surprise, for the man whom I would have avoided stood before me.

"You have heard I am ruined and disgraced," he said, for he could not but perceive the constraint in my manner.

"I have just left Monsieur Roche. How could you be so mad?"

His lips twitched even as though my words came as a shock to him.

"I thought one woman would believe me. I was on my way to ask for your assistance."

"Assistance is impossible, monsieur, with half-hearted confidences. A lady called upon you, and you refuse her name."

"Monsieur Roche discovered that it was the Countess Renaze."

"It was Mlle. Desormes," I said, coldly. Gaspard's face turned even a shade paler, and his eyes fell before my gaze.

"You know that?" he said, in astonishment.

"Yes; why did you not tell Monsieur Roche?"

"Because there are circumstances in which explanation may be counted as half-confession."

"Indeed."

"I was appalled at the accusation, and such an admission must have stamped my guilt. Think, the daughter of the very man who had tricked us, Monsieur Roche's implacable enemy. It was impossible, and so I kept silent."

"It was a criminal silence, a worse falsehood than a spoken untruth. Why did she call?"

Gaspard flushed, and after a moment's pause spoke in a voice that was hesitating and constrained.

"I had promised to lend her a government book upon the island of Martinique."

And then--for I could scarce restrain a smile--it was so ridiculous for one of the belles of Paris to take to the study of official reports; he hotly continued: "Now you see why I did not tell Monsieur Roche the truth, for even you do not believe it. It seems too childish, too ridiculous."

"It seems too childish to be false, _mon ami_," I answered; "but are you sure there was not some little--what shall I say when a beautiful woman and a clever man are concerned?--some little--"

"You need say nothing, Aide," he answered, looking me straight in the face; "you know there was not."

And my heart seemed to suddenly grow so light that I forgot the serious business that troubled us.

"Well, _mon cher_ Gaspard, I think it is a mistake; a promising diplomat ought to have tendencies towards matrimony, because it is so respectable."

"Only let me get this wretched problem solved, Aide, and then I will give you a commission to find me a wife. But I am hard to please," he laughed. "She must be the most beautiful woman in Paris, the most brilliant, and the most accomplished."

I think there must have been just a tinge of heightened color in my cheeks, and we were both smiling, forgetful of misfortune; but I had promised to find this paragon, and so I lightly laid my hand on his, and murmured, "Gaspard, _mon cher_, she is the very woman you shall marry."

I believe it was in his thoughts to say more, but I stopped him. "Let us get back to serious realities," I said. "Mlle. Desormes called upon you ostensibly for the Yellow Book that you promised to lend her. Was she left alone in your room?"

"For five minutes, perhaps, while I went to fetch it."

"And your room communicates with that of Monsieur Roche?"

"Yes."

"Then it is simplicity itself; in that five minutes she stole the paper."

"It is not simplicity itself Aide; far from it. Last night I locked the safe. Monsieur Roche went early, and left the key with me, and I saw the letter there when placing other documents in the safe. This morning before he arrived I unlocked it, took some papers out, and locked it again, and Monsieur Roche found it so when he arrived. So it is impossible to believe that Mlle. Desormes could have accomplished the theft."

"It seems impossible, Gaspard, because we do not know the method."

"There is but one key, and that did not leave my possession. The packet was to all intents and purposes intact this morning, the seal Monsieur Roche stamped upon it a month ago unbroken, but the contents had been stolen."

"She may have substituted a counterfeit for the original," I answered. "It is a favorite trick with a woman," and I smiled as I recollected a similar affair that had occurred between ourselves.

"And forged Monsieur Roche's private seal?"

"My dear Gaspard," I cried, irritably, "what is the use of adopting this supercilious air of obstruction? Papers are not spirited from steel safes. It must have been stolen, and it is for us to discover how, and regain it."

"I only seek to show how inexplicable the thing is," he answered.

"In detail, yes, but on the broad principle it is as plain as sunlight. Why should Monsieur Roche open the packet to-day?"

"Because of Monsieur Desormes's insolent threats of exposure and disgrace."

"Ah! now see, _mon ami_, how easy it becomes. A paper which incriminates Monsieur Desormes, which proclaims in his own writing his complicity in the policy adopted by the present ministry, was in Monsieur Roche's safe. This morning his daughter calls upon you on a preposterously transparent errand. She, one of the beauties of Paris, desires the loan of the recently issued report on Martinique; that necessitates your leaving her, and when she is gone, the paper is missing."

"The inference, on the broad principle, is that she stole it."

"Then that is the inference upon which we will base our work, _mon ami_."

"So you do not credit that in me she had a willing accomplice?"

"Should I be walking with you this afternoon if I did?" I said. "Only one thing I am sure about, and that is that Mlle. Desormes, in some inexplicable manner, stole that paper this morning, and must have it still. I am going to her at once, and next time we meet, _mon ami_, I will hand it back to you."

"You seem confident, Aide."

"And that is victory half accomplished,_ mon cher; au revoir_."

Ten minutes later I entered the court-yard of one of the mansions of the Boulevard Haussmann, and requested to see Mlle. Desormes. We were slight acquaintances, and already I counted that I had forced her to obey me, and to submit, for, although a very pretty and charming girl, she was too young and too inexperienced to be a match for a woman who was fighting for the good name of the man--But why confuse sentiment with diplomacy?

Mlle. Desormes received me in her boudoir with a smile of welcome, and thrust down amid the cushions of her chair, only half-concealed, was that eternal book on Martinique.

"Have you seen your father to-day, mademoiselle?" I asked, quietly, after a few moments' chat upon commonplaces.

"No," she cried, with a start, and then hastily added, "Has anything happened to him?"

"Nothing," I replied, reassuringly; "but have you communicated with him to-day?"

"No," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I desire to know," I enigmatically responded, and I could not but admire the clever look of perplexity upon her face. "As you have not done so, the matter is more easily arranged."

"What matter, madame?"

"This, mademoiselle. You called at Le Quai d'Orsay this morning and brought something away with you that you ought not to have done. Now the position is simple. You will give it to me, and no more will be said. If you do not, I shall compel you."

"Compel!" she cried, with a glint of spirit in her eyes. "Compel, madame."

"Compel, mademoiselle."

For an instant she seemed inclined to resent my emphatic demand, but with a careless shrug of the shoulders she turned to me again, and handed me that wretched book on Martinique.

I only drew my breath and gazed at her, my temper rising dangerously as I realized the utter uselessness of the course I had taken with this woman. A sudden surprise, because I had judged her young and inexperienced.

"I will not question your right, madame," she cried, with a fine touch of scorn. "You say you have come for that book, and I have given it to you. Shall we now say _au revoir_?"

"You must be deeply interested in Martinique," I viciously exclaimed; and she flushed until the color spread all over her cheeks, even invaded with a warm tint the whiteness of her neck, and yet, like a school-girl, she hung her head, and answered nothing.

"When the pretty women of Paris take to the study of government reports," I continued, with a sneer, endeavoring to irritate her until she spoke hastily, and perhaps gave me my opportunity, "there must indeed be other reasons in the background. Martinique doubtless possesses unique attractions for you, mademoiselle."

"This is shameful," she cried, springing passionately to her feet, "and from you, Madame Lerestelle, one whom I have always admired."

"Tush!" I cried, impatiently; and I too rose and faced her. "Why did you call upon Monsieur Levive this morning? Only for a book on Martinique--only that?"

She gazed into my eyes with a strange look of surprise, and then her lips twitched for a second, and as she held her forefinger up to me she had the effrontery to smile in my face.

"_Ma cherie_," she cried, with a laugh; "you're jealous."

"Mademoiselle!"

"Tut, tut!" she cried. "Now don't deny it, because it is the only possible excuse for the way you have been talking to me. But a woman can easily excuse jealousy when she is not in love with the same man."

I was numbed with indignation at the manner in which this _ingenue_ played with me, and she had had the audacity to place her arm around my waist.

"Confidence for confidence, _ma chere_," she murmured. "My father discovered that Monsieur Decasse and I loved each other, and had him transferred to Martinique, and," she looked up into my face, "even dry official reports of the progress of the island are interesting to me, because the man I love is there, and may even have written them."

Diplomacy vanished. I felt as helpless as a child in the hands of this innocent, whose ready tongue found such excuses, and with a spasm of rage I caught her by the wrist.

"Let us finesse no more, mademoiselle," I cried, sharply, "for the time is gone. I care for Martinique as much as you do, and you know what I have called for as well as I. Not this Yellow Book you brought away as an excuse, but the paper missing from Monsieur Roche's room. Will you give me that or not?"

"I do not understand you," she quietly replied.