“I can take care of myself. I am sorry to have you mixed up in it.” “You are sorry? How good of you! How paternal!” “If your husband were here--” “If my husband were here, you would probably be his best friend,” she rejoined, with acid sweetness; “and I should still have to take care of myself.” Had he no sense of what was possible to leave unsaid to a woman? She was very angry, though she was also a little sorry for him; for perhaps in the long run he would be in the right. But he must pay for his present stupidity. “You wrong me,” he answered, with a quick burst of feeling. “You are most unfair. You punish me because I do my public duty; and because I would do anything in the world for you, you punish me the more. Have you forgotten two years ago? Is it so easy to your hand, a true and constant admiration, a sincere homage, that you throw it aside like--” “Monsieur De la Riviere,” she said, with exasperating deliberation, her eyes having a dangerous light, “your ten minutes is more than up. And it has been quite ten minutes too long.” “If I were a filibuster”--he answered bitterly and suggestively. She interrupted him, saying, with a purring softness: “If you had only courage enough--” He waved his hand angrily. “If I had, I should hope you would prove a better friend to me than you are to this man.” “Ah, in what way do I fail towards ‘this man’?” “By encouraging his downfall. See--I know I am taking my life in my hands, as it were, but I tell you this thing will do you harm when it goes abroad.” She felt the honesty of his words, though they angered her. He seemed to impute some personal interest in Valmond. She would not have it from any man in the world. “If you will pick up my handkerchief--ah, thank you! We must travel different roads in this matter. You have warned; let me prophesy. His Highness Valmond Napoleon will come out of this with more honour than yourself.” “Thanks to you, then,” he said gallantly, for he admired her very stubbornness. “Thanks to himself. I honestly believe that you will be ashamed of your part in this, one day.” “In any case, I will force the matter to a conclusion,” he answered firmly. “The fantastic thing must end.” “When?” “Within a few days.” “When all is over, perhaps you will have the honesty to come and tell me which was right--you or I. Goodbye.” Elise was busy at her kitchen fire. She looked up, startled, as her visitor entered. Her heavy brow grew heavier, her eyes gleamed sulkily, as she dragged herself forward with weariness, and stood silent and resentful. Why had this lady of the Manor come to her? Madame Chalice scarcely knew how to begin, for, in truth, she wanted to be the girl’s friend, and she feared making her do or say some wild thing.