“What purpose, for example?” “Call it the purpose of the first-fruits, such as it is said our provincial monseigneurs claim on unions to which they give their blessing.” He drew back as if he had received a blow in the face. But she went on with perfect serenity: “There was, for instance, that little volage Fanchette--now in Parma with her mistress--whom you made happy with her gentleman.” “_I_ made happy?” “Did you not? Or was it only that, having taken your fee, the case resolved itself without your help?” He rose from his chair, as pale and grim as death. “What purpose can you have in thus insulting me?” he said. She gave a high little laugh, quite placid. “Insult! Such as you! O, I can assure you, monsieur, your methods have not failed to interest us. You have been very discreet; but walls have eyes as well as ears. Do not think I blame you for insisting on your price; such devotion deserves to be paid in kind.” “You lie,” he said, quite quietly now. “I have only that to say.” “Eh!” she cried. “It was not for that, then, that you intrigued with her? Or was it possibly that you thought to use the girl as stepping-stone to higher things?” His amazement showed in his face. “I have neither used nor abused her,” he said. “I know nothing whatever of her affairs of the heart. It is a base and wicked slander, whoever uttered it. I say so much and no more, because my honour demands it. You will permit me to withdraw, madame. I quit the palace to-night.” “That is as you please,” she answered, unruffled; and he left her. He had no alternative, his raging heart assured him. He must go at once, whatever his departure might portend to his hopes. But to stay on here thus vilified, thus enlightened, was impossible. O, into what foul passes had his sin allured him! And that they could have been existing all this time, unsuspected by him, like filthy slums environing the places which her very footsteps had made holy! The thought of them, of himself in such connection, was a profanation to her memory. His soul cried out to him to claim and bear her away, to a purer atmosphere, to a lovelier knowledge--into the white grave mysteries of the North. Whither first? As he halted a moment, undecided, a palace functionary pursued him with a despatch. He opened it and read. It was from the archduke, recalling him peremptorily to Vienna. CHAPTER XVIII. AN INTERVIEW “I would have laid down my life for my friend: my friend asked of me a harder thing.” He stood before the prince, his head erect, his hand motionless upon his sword hilt. Joseph, sitting, as quietly, in the chair he had pushed back from the table, regarded him steadily, dispassionately--even, at last, with an odd touch of pity in his expression. The season was early August; the place, a private cabinet in the old imperial palace called the Burg.