Mr. Sabin looked keenly across the table. There was something in the girl's face which he scarcely understood. "Well, not altogether for the sake of his company, I must confess," he replied. "He has been useful to me, and he is in the position to be a great deal more so." The girl rose up. She came over and stood before him. Mr. Sabin knew at once that something unusual was going to happen. "You want to make of him," she said, in a low, intense tone, "what you make of every one--a tool! Understand that I will not have it!" "Helène!" The single word, and the glance which flashed from his eyes, was expressive, but the girl did not falter. "Oh! I am weary of it," she cried, with a little passionate outburst. "I am sick to death of it all! You will never succeed in what you are planning. One might sooner expect a miracle. I shall go back to Vienna. I am tired of masquerading. I have had more than enough of it." Mr. Sabin's expression did not alter one iota; he spoke as soothingly as one would speak to a child. "I am afraid," he said quietly, "that it must be dull for you. Perhaps I ought to have taken you more into my confidence; very well, I will do so now. Listen: you say that I shall never succeed. On the contrary, I am on the point of success; the waiting for both of us is nearly over." The prospect startled, but did not seem altogether to enrapture her. She wanted to hear more. "I received this dispatch from London this morning," he said. "Baron Knigenstein has left for Berlin to gain the Emperor's consent to an agreement which we have already ratified. The affair is as good as settled; it is a matter now of a few days only." "Germany!" she exclaimed, incredulously, "I thought it was to be Russia." "So," he answered, "did I. I have to make a certain rather humiliating confession. I, who have always considered myself keenly in touch with the times, especially since my interest in European matters revived, have remained wholly ignorant of one of the most extraordinary phases of modern politics. In years to come history will show us that it was inevitable, but I must confess that it has come upon me like a thunder clap. I, like all the world, have looked upon Germany and England as natural and inevitable allies. That is neither more nor less than a colossal blunder! As a matter of fact, they are natural enemies!" She sank into a chair, and looked at him blankly. "But it is impossible," she cried. "There are all the ties of relationship, and a common stock. They are sister countries."