"The anger of the Marchioness being calmed, the interview, no doubt, took a most tender turn?" "We spoke of the affairs of the day." "Strange, out of all whooping! A colonel of thirty, a man of the court, besides, to speak decorously of the events of the day--with a beautiful lady--and he so lusty elsewhere!" "So it was, nevertheless, reverend Father. I never even thought, at that first interview, of venturing upon the slightest word of gallantry, so struck was I with the spirit of the Marchioness. Blue death! I was pale with rage at hearing the Marchioness's bitter sarcasms. I should have been glad--may God blast me!--to put myself at the head of my regiment and shoot down all the bourgeois in the States General." "This retrospective zeal flows from an excellent sentiment; and I know not how sufficiently to applaud the beautiful Venetian for having aroused that sentiment in you. Strongly do I approve the belle's sarcasms, her scorn for the ranters of the Third Estate, and the populace which supports them. Still, methinks it is very surprising that a stranger should interest herself so warmly in our affairs," added the Jesuit thoughtfully. Without a pause, the priest continued: "Tell me, Count--Have you dealt out the punishment to the insolent soldiers who beat the lackeys of Madam the Marchioness?" "It was impossible to discover them." "And she hasn't asked you for an account of their punishment? Strange! Do you know what I think, Count? The outrage was an imaginary one. It was the Marchioness's pretext to secure a first interview with you." "Come, Abbot, you are insane! For what reason should she have sought to inveigle me into an interview?" "I'll tell you, Count, for I foresee the end of this adventure. You returned often to visit the Marchioness? You became enamored of her? And soon the beautiful Venetian, answering your passion, granted you the boon of love for thanks--after having wheedled out of you all our party's closest secrets." "You are mistaken, holy Father. On the faith of a gentleman, the Marchioness loves me as passionately as I love her; but she has placed certain conditions on her favors." "And what may the conditions be with which she has hedged about her bounty?" "A struggle to the death against the revolution; the exaltation of royalty, of the privileges of the nobility and the Church; the extermination of our enemies. Only on these conditions, Abbot, shall my love receive its sweetest recompense." "Count," cried the Jesuit after a moment's silence, "you are only twenty years old! What am I saying? You are barely sixteen--you are still at the age of innocence and childlike credulity. You have been blindfolded, duped, made game of, tossed in a blanket, like the most artless of young fellows! Oh, the women! And you think yourself a Lovelace, a lady-killer, my poor Count! And you presume to play a role in the politics of the court!"