She looked him steadily in the eyes. “I have come to tell you that you must give up this dream,” she said slowly. “It can come to nothing but ill; and in the mishap you may be hurt past repair.” “I shall never give up--this dream,” he said, surprised, but firm, almost dominant. “Think of these poor folk who surround you, who follow you. Would you see harm come to them?” “As soldiers, they will fight for a cause.” “What is--the cause?” she asked meaningly. “France,” was the quiet reply; and there was a strong ring in the tone. “Not so--you, monsieur!” “You called me ‘sire’ once,” he said tentatively. “I called my maid a fool yesterday, under some fleeting influence; one has moods,” she answered. “If you would call me puppet to-morrow, we might strike a balance and find--what should we find?” “An adventurer, I fear,” she remarked. He was not taken aback. “An adventurer truly,” he said. “It is a far travel to France, and there is much to overcome!” She could scarcely reconcile this acute, self-contained man with the enthusiast and comedian she had seen in the Cure’s garden. “Monsieur Valmond,” she said, “I neither suspect nor accuse; I only feel. There is something terribly uncertain in this cause of yours, in your claims. You have no right to waste lives.” “To waste lives?” he asked mechanically. “Yes; the Government is to proceed against you.” “Ah, yes,” he answered. “Monsieur De la Riviere has seen to that; but he must pay for his interference.” “That is beside the point. If a force comes against you--what then?” “Then I will act as becomes a Napoleon,” he answered, rather grandly. So there was a touch of the bombastic in his manner even yet! She laughed a little ironically. Then all at once her thoughts reverted to Elise, and some latent cruelty in her awoke. Though she believed the girl, she would accuse the man, the more so, because she suddenly became aware that his eyes were fixed on herself in ardent admiration. “You might not have a convenient window,” she said, with deliberate, consuming suggestion. His glance never wavered, though he understood instantly what she meant. Well, she had discovered that! He flushed. “Madame,” he said, “I hope that I am a gentleman at heart.” The whole scene came back on him, and a moisture sprang to his eyes. “She is innocent,” he continued--“upon my sacred honour! Yes, yes, I know that the evidence is all against me, but I speak the absolute truth. You saw--that night, did you?” She nodded. “Ah, it is a pity--a pity. But, madame, as you are a true woman, believe what I say; for, I repeat, it is the truth.” Then, with admirable reticence, even great delicacy, he told the story as Elise had told it, and as convincingly. “I believe you, monsieur,” she said frankly, when he had done, and stretched out her hand to him with a sudden impulse of regard. “Now, follow up that unselfishness by another.” He looked inquiringly at her. “Give up this mad chase,” she added eagerly.