“I fear, Mr. Budd,” she went on with nervous vivacity, “that you would not be willing to follow us very far--no matter how great an effort I made to put you in sympathy with the new movement. Let me tell you, Mr. Budd, there is no predicting where it will all end. A woman in Vienna has applied to the authorities to be appointed chief-executioner. A Miss Edith Walker is an applicant in Bogota, Columbia, for the office of chief of police. I see by your face that you are shocked at all this. I am so glad.” “Glad that I am shocked?” exclaimed Budd confusedly. “No, not that; but that I have had the courage to warn you.” “To warn me?” “Yes,” answered Gertrude, the former paleness of her cheeks giving place to a slight flush, “to warn you. Don’t you see that there is great danger in attempting to keep up with the restless activity of the _fin-de-siècle_ woman? I think you will be much happier, Mr. Budd, in sticking to your former convictions, and not attempting to take an interest in movements and tendencies with which, you know, you are not in sympathy at heart.” “But,” persisted Budd, who felt that somehow his plan of campaign was not working itself out with the success that should attend a truly Napoleonic manœuvre, “I came here to ask you to help me, not by throwing cold water on my aspirations, but by telling me how to become worthy of--of the new woman.” Gertrude Van Vleck laughed nervously. “I appreciate the compliment you have paid me, Mr. Budd, but I am unworthy of the trust you seem to place in me. Frankly, I find it so difficult to adjust my former, I might say my hereditary, convictions to the teachings of the day, that I feel that I must remain a follower instead of a leader, even at the expense of not winning for the cause so valuable a champion as Mr. Buchanan Budd.” For the first time since he had opened fire, Buchanan Budd realized that his skirmish-line had been driven back. But a battle is never lost until the last charge is made. “I am sorry,” he said in a musing tone, “that you have not given me more encouragement in my effort to--to revise my ideas regarding--regarding woman’s sphere, I think you call it. I assure you, Miss Van Vleck,” and he bent toward her, “that my motive in asking you to help me in this matter was not of small importance to myself. I am very anxious to--to”-- He paused for words with a hesitation that was not at all Napoleonic. At that moment a servant entered with a card for Miss Van Vleck. “Mr. John Fenton!” exclaimed Gertrude, with something in her voice that did not please Buchanan Budd. Then she turned calmly toward him and asked, “Do you know Mr. Fenton, Mr. Budd?” A hitherto unpublished anecdote tells how a daring onlooker approached Napoleon on the morning of Waterloo and said,-- “Pardon me, Sire, but have you ever met Wellington before?” CHAPTER XII.