She nodded, the mischievous enjoyment of her colossal jest showing in her eyes, in spite of all. "Yes," said she, "among other things, I have been 'America Vespucci'! There seemed little to do here in intrigue, and that was my first endeavor to amuse myself. Then I found other employment. England needed a skilful secret agent. Why should I be faithful to England? At least, why should I not also enjoy intrigue with yonder government of Mexico at the same time? There came also Mr. Van Zandt of this Republic of Texas. Yes, it is true, I have seen some sport here in Washington! But all the time as I played in my own little game--with no one to enjoy it save myself--I saw myself begin to lose. This country--this great splendid country of savages--began to take me by the hands, began to look me in the eyes, and to ask me, '_Helena von Ritz, what are you? What might you have been?_' "So now," she concluded, "you asked me, asked me what I was, and I have told you. I ask you myself, what am I, what am I to be; and I say, I am unclean. But, being as I am, I have done what I have done. It was for a principle--or it was--for you! I do not know." "There are those who can be nothing else but clean," I broke out. "I shall not endure to hear you speak thus of yourself. You--you, what have you not done for us? Was not your mother clean in her heart? Sins such as you mention were never those of scarlet. If you have sinned, your sins are white as snow. I at least am confessor enough to tell you that." "Ah, my confessor!" She reached out her hands to me, her eyes swimming wet. Then she pushed me back suddenly, beating with her little hands upon my breast as though I were an enemy. "Do not!" she said. "Go!" My eye caught sight of the great key, _Pakenham's key_, lying there on the table. Maddened, I caught it up, and, with a quick wrench of my naked hands, broke it in two, and threw the halves on the floor to join the torn scroll of England's pledge. I divided Oregon at the forty-ninth parallel, and not at fifty-four forty, when I broke Pakenham's key. But you shall see why I have never regretted that. "Ask Sir Richard Pakenham if he wants his key _now!_" I said. CHAPTER XXXIV THE VICTORY She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to soul-seducing gold ... For she is wise, if I can judge of her; And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true; And true she is, as she hath proved herself. --_Shakespeare_. "What have you done?" she exclaimed. "Are you mad? He may be here at any moment now. Go, at once!" "I shall not go!" "My house is my own! I am my own!" "You know it is not true, Madam!" I saw the slow shudder that crossed her form, the the fringe of wet which sprang to her eyelashes. Again the pleading gesture of her half-open fingers.