"He is not one to whine for his life, sire. It is other business he means. But Your Majesty need not hear his business. Your Majesty need only _see_ him. Besides, it would hardly be court usage, granting him an audience so informally, would it?" "N-o, but if I am not to hear him, why should I see him?" "To save his life, parbleu!" "And why, since he is not concerned about that?" "But I am, sire, and I count on Your Majesty to help me repay an obligation." Maximilian was quick at clemency, but no one likes to have his weaknesses played upon. "Mademoiselle, who is this man? What has he done?" "An American, sire." Maximilian frowned. "A Confederate, I believe." The frown vanished. "And Colonel Dupin believes him to be an accomplice of Rodrigo Galan. But he is not. He fought Rodrigo Galan, in--in my behalf." Maximilian frowned again. "And so," he said, trying to do it lightly, "I have this unknown American to thank for the pleasure of seeing you, mademoiselle? Otherwise, I should not have known that you were here, and----" He stopped. The gray eyes were laughing at him. Was his jealousy then so apparent? And was it jealousy? Evidently, since she had discovered it. And that vexed him, because he had supposed that he was hiding his pique under a great self control. Angrily he stepped toward her, but the saucy eyes only grew merrier. Then his mood changed. He resolved grimly on open fighting. He meant to have either decisive honors or a decisive repulse. For it was his tantalizing doubts of her that made her laugh at him. Yet, when he spoke, he could not help the quaver of entreaty in his voice. "Mademoiselle, tell me, _why_ have you returned?" The question was so abrupt and so stern, she thought in a flash that he must have penetrated that Napoleonic intrigue which had flung her back upon the Western shores. But Maximilian believed he knew another reason for her pallor, and was encouraged. "You have already given one answer, mademoiselle," he hurried on, "and in too great a humility to dare hope it otherwise, I took you at your word. But now that you mock me--ah, you shall confess, you are back in Mexico on _my_ account!" "And would that merit this august displeasure, sire?" Her words sprang from relief; he suspected nothing of her secret mission. So the color might flood to her cheeks again, the mischief to her eyes, and with it a most perilous daring. For the Hapsburg, it was coy surrender. "Mademoiselle--Jacqueline!" Her name! The old nickname fondly given her in childhood, when she was a torment, and an anarchist to all law, and got innumerable scoldings, and basked unperturbed in love and adoration! Her name, that only Mexico had tainted! For the first time it passed his lips. But the sweet, quaint syllables had long been in his thoughts, with something, too, of the early worship in their bestowal.