She told me that her name was Julie de Rouville, but she would give no account of where she lived, though I took it that she was a young widow. "I have ventured to approach you, Count, because I cannot approach the Crown-Prince," she said presently. "You probably do not know the true reason of his visit here to Nice?" "No," I said. "I admit that I do not. Why is he here?" "It is a secret of his own. But, curiously enough, I am aware of the reason, and that is why I have sought you. Would it surprise you if I told you that in a certain quarter in France it will, in a few days, be known that the German Emperor is establishing a movement for an _entente_ between Germany and Britain, and that the whole affair is based upon a fraud? The Emperor wants no _entente_, but only war with France and with Britain. The whole plot will be exposed in a few days!" "From what source have you derived this knowledge?" I asked, looking at her in amazement that she should know one of the greatest State secrets of Germany. But she again smiled mysteriously, and said: "I merely tell you this in order to prove to you that I am in possession of certain facts known to but few people." "You evidently are," I said. "But who intends to betray the truth to France?" "I regret, Count, that I cannot answer your question." "If you are, as you say, the Crown-Prince's friend, it would surely be a friendly act to let us know the truth, so that steps may be taken, perhaps, to avoid the secret of Germany's diplomacy from leaking out to her enemies." "All I can tell you, Count, is that the matter is one of gravest importance." "But will you not speak openly, and give us the actual facts?" "I will--but to His Imperial Highness alone," was her answer. "You wish to meet him, then?" I asked, rather suspicious that it might after all be only a woman's ruse. And yet what she had said showed that she knew the Emperor's secret, for she had actually mentioned Von Gessler's name in connection with the pretended Anglo-German _entente_. "If His Highness will honour me with an interview, then I will reveal all I know, and, further, will suggest a means of preventing the truth from leaking out." "But you are French," I said. "I have told you so," she laughed. "But probably His Highness will refuse to see Julie de Rouville, therefore I think it best if you show him this." From her little gold chain-purse she produced a small, unmounted photograph of herself, and handed it to me. "When he recognizes who wishes to see him he will fully understand," she said, in a quiet, refined voice. "A letter addressed to Julie de Rouville at the Post Restante at Marseilles will quickly find me." "At Marseilles?" I echoed. "Yes. I do not wish the letter to be sent to me here. From Marseilles I shall duly receive it." I was silent for a few moments.