“I mustn't go any farther, old fellow,” he said. “I shall get used to things by-and-by, I dare say, but it was a little bit of a facer at first, and I haven't quite got over it yet. Look here, Fyffe, we've always been friends, don't let what's happened make any difference between us.” I don't think I ever felt so well disposed to him as I did at that minute. I was victor, for one thing, and it was easy to make allowance for the man who had lost; and, apart from that, his withdrawal had been so generous and candid that I should have been a brute not to have accepted it instantly. I shook hands with him with a warmer cordiality than I had ever experienced towards him, and with a higher opinion of his manhood. It was the last time I ever took him by the hand, poor Brunow! and though it is a hundred chances to one in my mind now that he was at that very moment plotting to betray me, I can't somehow find it in my heart to feel so bitter against him as I should have felt against a stronger man. He never seemed to me to be altogether responsible, like other people, and the payment of his treachery was so swift and dreadful that the memory of it breeds a sort of half-forgiveness in my mind. There were scores of hard business details to be thought of and talked about, and we three conspirators sat together until the night was late. When at last Ruffiano left us, the count detained me. “The world is full of changes,” he said, “and no man knows what may happen. We may never meet again, Fyffe, and I have a solemn charge to leave you. If I am caught again they will make short work of me. I do not mean to be caught if I can help it, but I know the risk I run. If anything should happen to me, I counsel you, for Violet's sake, to retire from The Cause. She cannot spare us both, and Italy has no claim on you.” I suppose the surprise I felt at receiving such advice from such a quarter showed itself in my face, for he went on with a smile: “I see you wonder at me, but I have had time to think since Violet spoke out her mind this afternoon. A man may have a cause and may set it above everything in the world, but a woman sees an individual--her father--her lover--her brother--her husband--a baby--any solitary human trifle--and to her the one individual is more valuable than any ideal. You will do as I wish, Fyffe?” “No!” I answered. “I am pledged, and I will carry out my promise. I should despise myself and Violet would despise me if I went back from it.” “Well, well,” he answered, and I could not tell from his manner whether he was pleased or displeased at my reply, “we are all in God's hands. Good-night, and good-bye. We shall not meet again for a little while, in any case.” CHAPTER XIV