"You surely cannot mean that I am to desert my daughter?"
"Don"t you think Amelie will be in safe hands if you leave her in _my_ care?" asked De Fervlans, with a glance that would have made any one who had not heard his words believe he was making a declaration of love.
"Besides, it will not be the first time you leave her to the care of another."
"That is true," sighed the countess; "I ought to be accustomed to parting with her. Have not I trusted her to the care of a police spy?
and all for my own advantage! Oh, what a wretched profession I have chosen for myself and my child!"
"A profession that yields a handsome income, madame," supplemented the marquis, a trifle sharply. "You ought not to complain. Surely the regime is not to blame that you married a roue, who squandered your fortune, and then was killed in a duel about a rope-dancer, leaving you a clever little daughter and a half-million of debts! What else could you have done to have earned a living for yourself and child?"
"I might have sent the child to a foundling asylum, and sought employment for myself in the gobelin factory. It would have been better had I done so!"
"I doubt it, countess. The path of virtue is only for those women who--have large feet! You are too fairy-like, and would have found the way too rough. It is much better, believe me, to serve the state. What would you? Is there not a comforting word due to the conscience of the soldier who has killed a fellow-being in the interest of his country?
Don"t you suppose his heart aches when he looks upon the death-struggles of the man he has killed without having a personal grudge against him?
We are all soldiers of the state. When we a.s.sault an enemy, we do not inquire if we hurt him; we kill him! and the safety of our fatherland hallows the deed."
"But that which we are doing is immoral," interposed the countess.
"And that which our enemy is doing is not immoral, I presume? Are not their beautiful women, their polished courtiers, acting as spies in our salons? We are only using their own weapons against them."
"That may be; but it was a repulsive thought that prompted the using of children as instruments in this deadly game."
"Were not they the first to set us an example? Was not it a repulsive thought which prompted them to hold over the heads of an entire people that h.e.l.lish machine of torture in the shape of a smiling child? No, madame; we need not be ashamed of what we are doing. Our men are engaged in warfare against their men; our lovely women are engaged in warfare against their lovely women; and our little children are engaged in warfare against their little children. Your little Amelie is a historical figure, and deserves a monument."
The marquis, perceiving that his sophistry was not without its effect on the lovely woman, continued:
"And then, madame, if you are weary of the role you and your little daughter are playing with such success, the opportunity is now offered to you to quit your present mode of life. Your financial affairs are utterly ruined; you are only the nominal possessor of the estate you inherited from your ancestors. If you succeed in the task which you are about to undertake, the entire sum of money, the interest of which you receive annually, becomes your own. Five millions of francs deserve some sacrifice. With this sum you can become an independent woman, and your daughter will never be reproached with having been, in her childhood, a member of Cythera"s Brigade."
Countess Themire deliberated a few moments; then she asked:
"May I not kiss my daughter farewell?"
"Leave your kiss with me, and I will deliver it faithfully!" smilingly responded the marquis.
"How can you jest at such a moment? Suppose my absence lasts a long time?"
"That is very probable."
"Am I not even to hear from my child--not even to let her know that I am living?"
"Certainly, countess; you may communicate with her through me. Moreover, it rests with yourself how soon you will return. Until that time it shall be my pleasure to take care of Amelie; you may rest in peace as to that!"
"Yes; she could not be in worse hands than in those of her mother!"
bitterly rejoined the countess. "The first letter, then, must be one of farewell."
She rose, went into her boudoir, and wrote on a sheet of paper:
"MY DEAR CHILD: I am compelled to take a journey. I shall write to you when I am ready to return. Until then, I leave you to perform the duties of hostess, and intrust my money-chest to your care. I embrace you a thousand times.
"Your old friend and little mama,
"THEMIRE."
She folded and sealed the letter, and handed it to De Fervlans.
"I shall be sure to deliver it," he said. "And now, send Jocrisse for a fiacre; you must not use your own carriage for this. You can leave the palace unperceived by the garden gate. Speak German wherever you go, and remember that you do not understand a word of French. I think you would better begin your search in Switzerland. And now, adieu, madame, until we meet again--"
"If only I might take one last look at my little daughter!" pleadingly interrupted the countess.
"Themire! You are actually beginning to grow sentimental. That does not become a soldier!"
"Had I suspected this," returned Themire, "I would not have given Amelie"s portrait to M. Cambray in that ridiculous farce. I wonder if I might not get it from him?"
"No; he will not part with it; he says he is going to keep it as a talisman. Only M. Sanson has the privilege of relieving prisoners of their trinkets, and Cambray is still far enough from Sanson"s reach! I shall have another portrait painted of Amelie, and send it to you."
"But this picture was painted while yet she was an innocent child."
"Upon my word, madame, you are as sentimental as a professor"s daughter!
I begin to fear you will not accomplish your mission--that you will end by falling in love with the man you are to capture for us, and betray us to him."
Themire did not say another word, but hurried into her dressing-room.
De Fervlans wrote an order for one hundred and fifty thousand francs for the Countess Themire Dealba for the first six months, added his wishes for a pleasant and successful journey, then returned to the salon, where he gave the missive which had been intrusted to his care to Jocrisse.
Jocrisse placed it on a silver tray, and presented it to the tiny lady of the house.
"Pray allow me, ladies and gentlemen," said the Lilliputian _grande dame_, as she broke the seal, "to read this letter--although I am only just learning the alphabet!"
There were a number of persons in the company who understood and enjoyed the concluding words.
The little countess lifted her gold-rimmed lorgnette to her eyes, and read her mother"s letter.
She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and opened wide her blue eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she proceeded to explain, "mama has been called suddenly away. She sends her greetings to you" (this was not in the letter, but the little diplomatist thought it best to atone for her mama"s neglect) "until she returns, which will be very soon" (this also was a thought of her own). "I am to fulfil the duties of lady of the house."
Then she turned toward De Fervlans, and whispered, holding the lorgnette in front of her lips:
"Mama leaves her money-chest in my care"--adding, with nave sarcasm, "which means that she has left me to battle with her creditors."
PART II
THE HOME OF ANECDOTE
CHAPTER I