“You make a beautiful advocate, Mistress Gabrielle, and you, if anyone, can work your will with me. I would gladly see these things with your eyes--to please you,” he said with a meaning glance. “I am but of small account, and to please me is a very little thing, and at best a poor motive for doing right.” “It would be _my_ only motive, poor or rich. But I fear you understand the art of government but ill. We must have money to administer the town. We must have troops, and troops must be paid and fed, fair advocate.” “Why? Is force in the hand of the ruler a surer foundation of rule than content and prosperity among the ruled?” “The world cannot wag without soldiers, mademoiselle, and Morvaix can only be ruled by force.” “Must a populace be starved that the soldiers may be fat? If I seem to speak boldly, it is because I feel deeply. And if I offend, I crave your pardon, monsieur.” “Nothing you could say or do could ever offend me, Mademoiselle Gabrielle. With you I am as clay in the hands of the potter.” “Nay, if you put it merely on grounds personal to myself, I can urge nothing,” said Gabrielle, sadly and reluctantly. “Yet they are the only grounds that will prevail with me,” he answered. “The lot of these people is much to you, you say; then you would of a surety make sacrifices to help them? Is it not so?” “I would do anything in my power,” she said warmly. “That remains to be proved,” he retorted, smiling as he looked searchingly at her. “Perhaps I may take that as a challenge and put you to a test. Your petition here”--he drew it out and opened it. “You urge me to recall this last ordinance of mine and take off the new imposts on food.” “The people will starve if you do not, monsieur.” “Well, let them starve, then. I must have money, and money can only be raised by such means. But if I were to grant you this favour, make this sacrifice for you, what sacrifice would you make in your turn, what favour would you grant me?” His eyes were glowing as he turned them upon her while waiting for her reply. “I do not understand your lordship,” said Gabrielle, meeting his glance with her calm innocent gaze. “Or is it that you will not?” he asked insolently. “Supposing I agree that your influence shall prevail with me and that in the government of Morvaix you and I shall act together: you inspiring with your lofty motives, I executing with the powers at my command. If we try it for a year, two years, three years--any time you like to fix--what would be my reward?” “The rich gratitude of a contented people, the respect of every man in Morvaix; hope in place of despair, prosperity instead of want, love where fear now lurks.” “Pshaw! I do not seek the love of such canaille, a mouthing mob as ready to shout ‘Crucify’ as ‘Hosanna!’ What reward would you yourself grant?” “I should for ever bless and admire you.”