“Ah!” she said, with generous emotion, “be to me henceforth the source from which I draw the ideas I must still acquire about your cause--I consent. But let me still remember that you are the only noble who does his duty in fighting France with Frenchmen, without the help of foreigners. I am a woman; I feel that if my child struck me in anger I could forgive him; but if he saw me beaten by a stranger, and consented to it, I should regard him as a monster.” “You shall remain a Republican,” said the marquis, in the ardor produced by the generous words which confirmed his hopes. “Republican! no, I am that no longer. I could not now respect you if you submitted to the First Consul,” she replied. “But neither do I like to see you at the head of men who are pillaging a corner of France, instead of making war against the whole Republic. For whom are you fighting? What do you expect of a king restored to his throne by your efforts? A woman did that great thing once, and the liberated king allowed her to be burned. Such men are the anointed of the Lord, and there is danger in meddling with sacred things. Let God take care of his own, and place, displace, and replace them on their purple seats. But if you have counted the cost, and seen the poor return that will come to you, you are tenfold greater in my eyes than I thought you--” “Ah! you are bewitching. Don’t attempt to indoctrinate my followers, or I shall be left without a man.” “If you would let me convert you, only you,” she said, “we might live happily a thousand leagues away from all this.” “These men whom you seem to despise,” said the marquis, in a graver tone, “will know how to die when the struggle comes, and all their misdeeds will be forgotten. Besides, if my efforts are crowned with some success, the laurel leaves of victory will hide all.” “I see no one but you who is risking anything.” “You are mistaken; I am not the only one,” he replied, with true modesty. “See, over there, the new leaders from La Vendee. The first, whom you must have heard of as ‘Le Grand Jacques,’ is the Comte de Fontain; the other is La Billardiere, whom I mentioned to you just now.” “Have you forgotten Quiberon, where La Billardiere played so equivocal a part?” she said, struck by a sudden recollection. “La Billardiere took a great deal upon himself. Serving princes is far from lying on a bed of roses.” “Ah! you make me shudder!” cried Marie. “Marquis,” she continued, in a tone which seemed to indicate some mysterious personal reticence, “a single instant suffices to destroy illusions and to betray secrets on which the life and happiness of many may depend--” she stopped, as though she feared she had said too much; then she added, in another tone, “I wish I could be sure that those Republican soldiers were in safety.” “I will be prudent,” he said, smiling to disguise his emotion; “but say no more about your soldiers; have I not answered for their safety on my word as a gentleman?”