Pierre struggled to preserve his balance. "Even in this barbaric country--have even--_you_--such power? Can you not be called to some account?" "I regret the necessity of being vulgar," said Hagané, in a composed voice, "but I see I must explain. It is my--what you call position--my--er--rank. It might not be possible to every Japanese, Monsieur. But as things are, the woman is as much mine as a French spaniel would be yours. Again I assure you, by the life of my Emperor, she will come. Again I ask, Do you accept my bargain?" Pierre whispered to himself Count Ronsard's words, "Remember France!" He tried to keep his reason, but the wave of hope had surged high. He saw as in a vision Yuki, disgraced, rejected, wandering alone through the wind-swept streets. He saw her face sheltered upon his arm,--that little face so pure, so delicate, so well-beloved. Her desolation touched him for a moment with an unselfish grief. "She is proud--she is brave!" he cried aloud. "Even at your orders will she come?" "I think so, Monsieur. She might possibly consider it a last chance to serve the country she has wronged." "Yes, and she might prefer to die." Hagané sent a curious, cold look to search the young man's thought. "Do Christians dare--to die?" The acid scorn bit deep. "Yes," raved Pierre. "And they dare to live, and, sometimes, they dare to slay! I do not consent, remember. I believe it yet to be a trick, a mockery. If I find it so, I swear in the name of that Christian God whom you blaspheme--if I find that you are holding out the one bribe that you know I would sell my soul to the devil for--thinking to gloat over the new deviltry of snatching it away--I'll--I'll--" He broke off, mouthing for words that would not come. His hand unconsciously fingered the cold surface of the pistol. Again Hagané looked bored, and made a gesture of distaste. "Don't sneer like that, you toad of hell!" shrieked his companion. "You think this bluster,--but I mean it. I mean it terribly!" A sudden sound in the outer hall cut short the threat. Footsteps, in stockinged feet, or in the Japanese tabi, came swiftly. Both men by instinct fixed eyes upon the door. Yuki walked straight to her husband and stood still. Their eyes met. "I thank the Gods that you are safe," she said aloud. Her glance moved quickly to Pierre, surprising on his face a hurt, incredulous expression. "Monsieur, be comforted. It is for the country, not for me," mocked Hagané. "And now, Madame," he said, with bloodshot eyes on Yuki, "have you explanation for this new act of disobedience, of affront to my dignity?" Yuki did not hasten to reply. Whether the power had grown from without or within that childish form, a new strength was now hers. She had the look of one who, after long wandering in a dangerous forest, has spied a path.