She stared at him in wonder, and drew farther away. It was his tone, altered as she could never have thought possible, nor had she known that aught on earth might hurt her so. She heard a decent man addressing some unavoidable word to a strumpet. All vestige of respect was gone, gone unconsciously, except that respect for himself which would not allow that the word be coarse or an insult. She looked in vain, too, for a trace of anger. Once she had sought to kill him, but that had not changed his big heart. While now! How much--oh, how much easier--was that other sacrifice of hers than this! "Perhaps, sir," she found the strength to say, "perhaps I have even, in my humble opinion, favored the acceptance of your offer. But His Majesty knows far better than I under what conditions he might accept." Driscoll turned to Maximilian direct. "Name them." "There is but one. We cannot give refuge to the enemies of the United States----" "The conditions?" "Therefore, to avoid complications, your men must lay down their arms on entering Mexico. Then we would deliver the arms to the United States on their recognizing Our Empire----" "Trade us off, you mean?" "Or, in case the United States still held aloof, then, as citizens of Mexico, you could take up your arms again." Driscoll looked at Jacqueline. She, the inspiration of such a condition, knew quite well beforehand that he would not submit. "This is final, is it?" he demanded. "It is, because We cannot provoke war with the United States, but," Maximilian urged querulously, "you have only to surrender your swords." "After refusing them to the Federals, to the men who _fought_ for them? And now we are to give them up to a pack of----" Driscoll stopped short and took another breath. "By God, sir, no sir!" he cried. CHAPTER XXXIII A SPONSOR FOR THE FAT PADRE "Every man is as heaven made him, and sometimes a great deal worse." --_Cervantes._ When Driscoll had gone, Jacqueline would not linger. Maximilian sought to detain her, but something had happened that he could not fathom. She was no more the same person. "Not even a token to bid me be brave so far away in Austria?" he pleaded. "There have been tokens enough," she returned shortly. "I ask Your Majesty's leave. Good-night." She gained her room, and worked till late on a cipher dispatch to Napoleon. Its purport was, that now, if ever, Maximilian must be discouraged absolutely. Following on what she herself had done, such would bring his abdication. She implored, above all things, that Bazaine be kept from meddling, from extending false hopes. Poor girl, after what it had cost, she was passionately bent on success. A courier took her packet to the City the next day, whence the message was to be sped to Paris.