I am something of a philosopher. I submit that my attitude at the time of my defeat at the hands of the jeweller's clerk proves the point conclusively. If I failed at that time to inspire feelings of love in the breast of a giddy stenographer, what right had I to expect anything better from the beautiful Countess Tarnowsy, whose aspirations left nothing to the imagination? While she was prone to chat without visible restraint at this significantly trying moment, I, being a philosopher, remained silent and thoughtful. Quite before I knew it, I was myself again: a steady, self-reliant person who could make the best of a situation, who could take his medicine like a man. Luckily, the medicine was not so bitter as it might have been if I had made a vulgar, impassioned display of my emotions. Thank heaven, I had _that_ to be thankful for. She was speaking of the buttonless lawyer, Mr. Bangs. "He is waiting to see you this evening, Mr. Smart, to discuss ways and means of getting my mother and brothers into the castle without discovery by the spies who are undoubtedly watching their every move." I drew in another long, deep breath. "It seems to me that the thing cannot be done. The risk is tremendous. Why not head her off?" "Head her off? You do not know my mother, Mr. Smart. She has made up her mind that her place is here with me, and there isn't anything in the world that can--head her off, as you say." "But surely _you_ see the danger?" "I do. I have tried to stop her. Mr. Bangs has tried to stop her. So has father. But she is coming. We must arrange something." I was pacing the floor in front of her. She had resumed her place in the chair. "My deepest regret, Countess, lies in the fact that our little visits will be--well, at an end. Our delightful little suppers and--" "Oh, but think of the comfort it will be to you, not having me on your mind all of the time. I shall not be lonesome, I shall not be afraid, I shall not be forever annoying you with selfish demands upon your good nature. You will have time to write without interruption. It will be for the best." "No," said I, positively. "They were jolly parties, and I shall miss them." She looked away quickly. "And, if all goes well, I shall soon be safely on my way to America. Then you will be rid of me completely." I was startled. "You mean that there is a plan afoot to--to smuggle you out of the country?" "Yes. And I fear I shall have to trouble you again when it comes to that. You must help me, Mr. Smart." I nodded slowly. Help her to get away? I hadn't thought of that lately. The prospect left me rather cold and sick. "I'll do all that I can, Countess." She smiled faintly, but I was certain that I detected a challenge,--a rather unkind challenge,--in her eyes. "You will come to see me in New York, of course." I shook my head. "I am afraid we are counting our chickens before they're hatched. One or the other of us may be in jail for the next few years." "Heavens!"