It was a face sensitive, although bony and lined; stern, though its owner still was young. She noticed the reddish hair and beard, the florid skin, the blue eye set deep--a fighting eye, yet that of a visionary. "You are a fanatic," she said. "That is true. You, yourself, are of my own kind. You would kill me without tremor, if you had orders, and I--" "You would do as much!" "You are of my kind, Madam. Yes; we both take orders from our own souls. And that we think alike in many ways I am already sure." "None the less--" "None the less, I can not agree to set you down at Cairo, or at any intermediate point. I will only give my promise in return for your own parole. That, I would take as quickly as though it were the word of any officer; but you do not give it." "No, I do not. I am my own mistress. I am going to escape as soon as I can." He touched his cap in salute. "Very well, then. I flattered myself we had done well together thus far--you have made it easy. But now--no, no, I will not say it. I would rather see you defiant than to have you weaken. I love courage, and you have it. That will carry you through. It will keep you clean and safe as well." Her face clouded for the first time. "I have not dared to think of that," she said. "So long as we came in the special train, with none to molest or make me afraid--afraid with that fear which a woman must always have--we did well enough, as I have said; but now, here in the open, in public, before the eyes of all, who am I, and who are you to me? I am not your mother?" "Scarcely, at twenty three or four." He pursed a judicial lip. "Nor your sister?" "No." [Illustration: The _Mount Vernon_] "Nor your wife?" "No." He flushed here, although he answered simply. "Nor your assistant in any way?" His face lighted suddenly. "Why not?" said he. "Can't you be my amanuensis,--that sort of thing, you see? Come, we must think of this. This is where my conscience hurts me--I can't bear to have _my_ duty hurt _you_. That, my dear Countess, cuts me to the quick. You will believe that, won't you?" "Yes, I believe that. Jeanne," she motioned to her maid who stood apart all this time, "my wrap, please. I find the air cool. When the body is weak or worn, my dear sir, the mind is not at its best; and I shall need all my wits." "But you do not regard me as your enemy?" "I am forced to do so. Personally, I thank you; professionally, I must fight you. Socially, I must be--what did you say,--your amanuensis? So! We are engaged in a great work, a treatise on our river fortifications, perhaps? But since when did army officers afford the luxury of amanuenses in this simple republic? Does your Vehmgerichte pay such extraordinary expenses? Does your carte blanche run so far as that also?"