Part 5

He vaulted lightly from his horse, and, cap in hand, walked towards me; and I saw the look that I have seen in the eyes of other men come into his.

He did not crave pardon for speaking. He came as a man of the world to a woman in distress; came and counted there could be no offence.

"You have had an accident," he said; "can I be of service to you?"

"It is nothing," I answered, with a swift glance into his eyes; "my servants have gone to seek a blacksmith, or a coach-builder."

"The nearest is twenty kilometres away: we are far from civilization at Lecrese; you cannot wait until they return."

"And the nearest village?"

"Five kilometres."

I gazed around in some perplexity up to the sky, where the rosy tints were fading from the fleecy clouds, and then back into his face for inspiration. "If you are riding that way," I said, "I will ask you to send me a carriage from there."

He laughed a merry, good-tempered laugh, as though a child had asked for the moon, and again reminded me of our distance from civilization.

"Can you walk five kilometres?" he asked, with such a serious look upon his face that I smiled with amusement.

"Of course," I answered; "do you take me for an old woman?"

"No," he cried, with boyish emphasis; "only I thought, perhaps--"

"Perhaps I was one of those poor creatures to whom exertion is purgatory. Show me the road, please."

"It is the one I am taking myself."

"Which, although an interesting announcement, scarcely suffices to indicate the direction," I murmured.

"I mean, if you will permit, we will walk together."

"For the moment, at least," I cried, "circumstances have made the highway our joint property: then let us share companionship for mutual benefit;" and I drew my cloak about my shoulders, while he, laughing a strange little laugh, as though he scarcely understood me, swung his horse's bridle on his arm, and we strolled along together.

What need to recount what happened upon that walk, for have I not said that it was a dangerous place for a foolish youth and a designing woman?

What need either to speak of other days when we met by chance again, and I saw a glow of pleasure in his face; what need to speak of his moments of gloom, when, even as we talked, the light went out of his eyes; and I, who have felt the pulse of love so often that I know its every beat, told myself that he was wondering how he was to break with the other woman, the one whom I had never met.

And I, too, felt ill at ease; the country is so different from the capital. In the life that I had lived, to-night's dangerous _tete-a-tete_ was forgotten in the rush of to-morrow's engagements, but here it was different; I yearned for finality, and a release from a position that was becoming embarrassing.

Deprived of the company of my cavalier, I walked alone in the woods of Lecrese, priding myself that victory was mine, and in yet a few days I might say to him that I journeyed to Paris in full confidence that he would follow me.

Then, in the silence of the sultry afternoon, I heard his voice, and another in reply, that told me that if I chose to play the eavesdropper I might behold my rival, the actress; and I did choose, because I was upon a diplomatic mission, and--because I am a woman.

Through a cluster of bushes I gently forced my way, sighing as a jealous thorn caught me and ripped a strip from my silken mantle; and then, drawing the branches upon one side, I looked into the glade, where she was resting upon the trunk of a fallen tree. He sat by her side--and--angels defend us!--held her hand.

Though it be against my desires, the truth is the truth. She was not painted, neither was she old, or even plain, and, worst of all, as she sat listening to him there was a look upon her face that spoke faithfully to me that she loved him.

And he looked back at her with the reflection of the same light within his eyes.

Yet, what a clever little adventuress she was. I laughed scornfully to myself as they continued their conversation.

"What are these distinctions that the world calls difference of class?" she said, in a thoughtful voice. "Who has ordained that this man and that woman shall marry because they are on the same social scale?"

"Why talk of such things?" he answered. "How can it affect us? I am a poor student--"

"And I a poorer girl," she interrupted, "on a visit all too brief."

"On a visit that must last forever. I worship you, and you love me."

"I have not said so," she murmured, so softly that I could scarcely catch the words.

"Your eyes have told me; you will not sacrifice our love."

"Oh, if I were only a man," she said, placing both hands upon his shoulders.

"What, then, my love?" and he would have embraced her.

"Nothing," she answered, and the look in her eyes restrained him. "Let us go."

They passed on together, and I could not but smile at the manner in which the wretched little flirt pretended to keep him from her, and yet with every action strengthened the chain that bound him.

Then as they moved onward I discreetly followed, for I had fixed in my mind that I would spoil this rustic love-making, and show her that I knew her for what she was.

Not a poor girl, as she was pleased to term herself, but a common actress from some booth of Montmartre, a skilled adventuress, who had set herself to delude a foolish boy, knowing what was to be gained thereby. And in truth he was a foolish boy, a most annoying one, a most deceitful one, for I had made no progress when I had counted all was won.

He left her at the gate of a tiny cottage, and, as soon as the bend in the road had hidden him from view, I walked through the garden, and, lifting the latch, boldly entered.

Mademoiselle had removed her hat, and stood resting her head against the latticed window, gazing up the path that he had taken.

She turned as I entered, and stood looking towards me, and yet not with so very much wonderment, for suddenly she broke into a smile.

"You have entered to rest a while," she said. "You are welcome; we are not altogether strangers, for I have heard so much of you."

"Heard of me?" I queried, rather sharply, for this girl seemed to have the manners of such as myself.

"Certainly," she replied, still smiling; "you are the _grand dame_ whose carriage broke down, and who is so charmed with the rustic delights of Lecrese that she prolongs her stay indefinitely," and there was a tinge of becoming satire in her voice.

"How do you know that?"

"You are the only one who would walk in the woods in a costume fit only for driving in the Bois de Boulogne," she answered, and I flushed with annoyance, for she looked so cool, while I was hot with the glowing of the sun and the burning of my temper.

"We cannot all pretend to rustic innocence, mademoiselle."

"Nor succeed, if we did, madame," she retorted, and then the flash of anger left her face. "You will forgive me," she cried, taking my hand. "I forget myself; you will rest and take tea with me."

I would have bargained my soul for a cup of tea, but I ignored the offer, and continued, "I have come to speak with you on a matter of importance."

"Be seated," she answered, coldly, and she, too, sat and waited.

She plagued me because of her calmness and dignity, the air of superiority she assumed towards me.

"Don't you think this farce has been played long enough, mademoiselle?" I asked, scornfully, and she merely raised her eyebrows, and maintained her unruffled composure.

"This Arcadian love-making," I cried, reddening with vexation, "this whispering of paradise, this thistle-down entanglement. Don't you think it is time to say good-bye?"

"Quite," she answered, with supreme contempt. "Good-bye," and she returned to the window.

Then something--who can follow the subtle changes that occur in a woman's heart?--something came into mine, and instead of anger I felt a pang of pity for the girl who so disdained me. I walked towards her, and laid my hand upon her arm.

"You know it must be so," I said.

"Yes, it must be so."

"He is of one world and you of another."

"You know that?" she said, in surprise.

"Yes, I know who you are, and who he is. Your words in the wood an hour since were romance, and romance is out of date. It is impossible. Your paths lie asunder: you must take yours, and leave him his."

I had placed my arm around her shoulder, and somehow the contempt I felt for this play-actress had vanished, and my eyes were misty as she turned hers towards me. Then in a second she was crying softly in my arms.

"You will say good-bye," I whispered.

"Yes," she answered, her face still hidden, "I will say good-bye."

"To-day?"

"Yes, to-day--within an hour he will return, and then, with courage taken into both my hands, I will say good-bye. I have been sadly foolish, and now I will break his heart because I wasted wisdom until too late."

I did not tell her that men's hearts, and the hearts of princes in particular, do not break so easily. Neither did I say that the heart that fluttered against my own was nearer breaking than his would ever be, but I kissed her again, and so we waited until we heard his Highness's whistle, as he approached the gate, and, gaining no response, walked up to the door and knocked.

"Come in," I cried, for her permission was so choked that it could not reach him, and he entered and stood gazing in annoyed bewilderment.

"You, madame?"

"I, monsieur."

"What does this mean?"

She walked across and took his hand, holding it tightly between both her own.

"Only this, dear," she whispered, "we have had our dream, and now the awakening comes. It was all my fault, and you must leave me, and forget we ever met--but, no, do not forget; remember me as the wickedest woman whom you have ever known. The one who falsely won your love, and then spurned it, and left you with only a bitter knowledge of the evil of the world."

"You mean that you have fooled me, and do not love me?" he said, stonily.

"Yes, I have fooled you," she answered, and she seemed to shrink beneath the lie that her love told her would teach him the sooner to forget.

"And you do not love me?" he repeated, his face growing gray in the glowing sunlight.

"I do not love you," she answered, and the boy believed her.

"Good-bye," he said; "shall I murmur my gratitude for the few hours of happiness in my fool's paradise?"

Then, while the sneers still hovered around his lips, while I counted all was ended, she flung her arms around him, and drew his head down, until his cheek touched hers.

"Not so, my own," she sobbed, "not so; we must part, but not like this. I cannot live if you should think me so worthless. We must part; you must go one way and I the other, but I love you, dear, I love you."

"Mademoiselle," I cried, sharply, "this is mere childishness, this is the weakest folly;" and she, with her eyes glistening, turned again from him, and answered, wearily:

"Yes, 'tis folly, 'tis madness--good-bye."

"No," he cried, wildly, "you shall not go!"

"She must--she shall," I answered, angrily.

"Are you bereft of reason that you would so disgrace yourself--your State?"

"It is no disgrace to marry the noblest woman this world has seen," he retorted, hotly, and I admired him for the blaze of passion in his eyes.

"You speak like a child," I cried. "She says good-bye because she knows that you must part. Prince Ferdinand of Elvirna cannot wed a nobody."

"Prince Ferdinand!" she gasped, and, stepping back a pace, gazed through her tears into his face.

"Eh! Prince Ferdinand," he answered, in scorn, "and curse the day that made me so. I am no struggling student. Curse the day that made me Prince, I say! Curse the day!"

"Prince Ferdinand," she repeated, and I thought the girl must be bewitched, for she smiled.

I caught him by the arm and drew him towards me, for I could see by the look on her face that she was no scheming adventuress.

"If there be disgrace," I cried, witheringly, "it is yours. You came with deceit and falsehood. You won her heart, pretending to be such as she, no better in the world's eyes, and no worse."

"Were I Prince a thousand times over, and a thousand times on that," he answered, softly, "I would give it all for her."

"Happily, there must be two to the bargain, and she is too true a woman to hold you, when she knows it means your social ruin."

"On the contrary, madame; now I know he is what he is I will marry him."

Her face was wreathed in smiles, smiles that had chased away the mist of sorrow's tears, and I shuddered as I realized that I had brought about the very end that I came to prevent.

"You will marry him?" I gasped.

"_Oui_, madame," she replied, and courtesied to the ground. "You know me. Are we not what the world calls eligibles?"

I could only gaze in bewilderment.

"Tell the Prince who I am," she cried, with a roguish laugh; and then, as I still stood silent, she courtesied again to the ground before him.

"Rene, only daughter of the Compte de Pontiers, may it please your Highness," she murmured.

He would have taken her to his arms in a rush of delight, but she ceremoniously waved him back.

"Present us with all due form and etiquette, madame."

It was a strange introduction, for three times did they bow with court formality to each other, and then the rustic lovers came to life again, and he clasped her in his arms.

"If you knew he was such an exalted personage, and knew me not to be a poor actress upon a visit, as I pretended," Rene cried, turning towards me, "why did you insist that I must break away from happiness because of my position? Surely we are what our world calls eligibles?"

And while I, in a generous instant, would have confessed the whole truth, a flush came over her face.

"My father must never know of this foolish masquerade," she said, gravely.

"You never met Prince Ferdinand until two minutes since," I answered. "Is it not so? We will say that his Highness's infatuation for an actress died the natural death of most infatuations; and then, a little later, make known his coming alliance with no less a lady than Rene, daughter of the Compte de Pontiers."

So ended Prince Ferdinand's entanglement. So ended my romantic mission that was such a successful failure; and now sometimes when I admire that diamond necklace I wonder if an accusation might not be formulated against me for obtaining jewels under false pretences. And yet--why?

A DEAL WITH CHINA

For the moment the exhilarating fascination of "Le Pole Nord" had absolutely enthralled the heart of feminine Paris.

To skate for an hour and then sit and sip one's coffee, to hold an informal reception among one's own particular enemies, or to flirt with one's dearest friends for the remainder of the afternoon, was now the amusement upon which Society had set its approving hall-mark, and for once in the way the craze that fashionable Paris had smiled upon was something in the nature of pleasure, and not a task.

It was delight to glide across the ice to the strains of that excellent orchestra; it was premature paradise to know that one's tailor-made gown, edged with fur to maintain an illusive suggestion of winter, need not await a frost before it could pique one's bosom companion; it was new life to feel one's blood tingling with the glow of health and new elation; to realize that one had successfully mastered the intricacies of double grape-vines and Canadian eights; and it was fashionable, for did not the Duchess de Maussapet, the Countess Venezia, and all others we poor women have been taught to imitate, grace the assembly almost every afternoon?

We had danced a quadrille upon the ice, and as the final bars died away my eyes met those of my diplomatic friend Monsieur Roche, as he leaned against a pillar, and there was a look upon his face, a peculiar gesture as he bowed to me, that told me why so staid a man had joined the frivolities of "Le Pole Nord."

Yet it went against my heart to dismiss my companion, for he was the most handsome instructor that "Le Pole Nord" possessed, an Apollo in his fur-trimmed jacket and jaunty cap, and all my feminine friends were dying to skate with him. It went against my heart to give him up to a woman who would only bore him.

He sighed as he unfastened my skates, and I sighed too, and walked to where Monsieur Roche was waiting.

And the poor man did look so absurd in his silk hat and conventional frock-coat compared with my late companion; but that man was now skating with a woman I detested, and I promptly dismissed him from my thoughts.

"I have looked everywhere for you," Monsieur Roche exclaimed, as he took my hand.

"There is only one place where I could be, monsieur, and that is here. To be away from 'Le Pole Nord' at this time of the day is to be out of the world. Would you care to cultivate the art with my assistance?"

"I wish for your guidance over something even more slippery than ice," he answered, as we seated ourselves upon a lounge.

"Well?"

"You know that we are entertaining an envoy from China, who presumably tours the world on a voyage of pleasure and enlightenment."

"His Excellency Hun Sun?"

"Precisely." Monsieur Roche leaned towards me until his lips almost touched my ear. "This journey of pleasure is a subterfuge. The Ambassador comes from China to France."

"And the object of his visit?"

"To gain a pledge from France for defensive, or even offensive, protection."

I pursed my lips, for who in the world did not know that England and Russia would have to be reckoned with?

"There are powers in China," Monsieur Roche continued, "who have offered such inducements to tempt this protective alliance that we cannot resist them. Who those powers may be, whether the Emperor himself or those who do not love him, concerns you nothing. Hun Sun came to me and gave the message by word of mouth, but because of the secrecy which must be maintained in such a matter, no writing was to pass between France and China which, if by any chance intercepted, could be brought up against"--Monsieur Roche paused--"those who had sent him."

"We civilized nations are far behind the heathen in diplomacy," I murmured.

"Far behind," he acquiesced. "Many a man would be happier if he had never learned to write. There was to be no writing between us that could incriminate. Hun Sun gave me the message, asked for a witness, and before that witness, who was Gaspard Levive, my chief secretary, handed me a small gold seal. If France agreed, our answer was to be a mere interchange of diplomatic courtesies, sealed with that seal, and all would be understood."

"It seems over-elaborated and cumbersome caution, _mon ami_, for surely the man trusted to bring the message could be trusted to take the answer."

"Except that as it is he can never know the answer, _ma chere_. However, it is not the methods of this diplomacy that I wished to consult you upon, but this: when his Excellency handed me the seal, I placed it upon the table by my side; five minutes afterwards he left, and when I turned to the table it was gone, and no one but ourselves had been near it. By 'ourselves' I mean Hun Sun, myself, and Gaspard Levive. There seems to be no possible reason for his Excellency to steal what he need not have delivered; there would be no sense in my concealing what no one need know I have received, and so--"

"There is only Gaspard?" I sharply interjected, and I felt my pulses throb with indignation, for who knew better than I, since the affair of the abducted Ambassador, that the man I was honored in calling my dearest friend was as true as any who served our country.

"There is only Gaspard," monsieur repeated.

"Then you insinuate that your secretary, my friend, has stolen the seal?" I cried, angrily.

"I insinuate nothing," he answered. "I come to you, because you have solved many difficult problems, to help me in this."

"And I refuse, monsieur. You are a poor diplomat to attempt to gain a woman's sympathy by attacking one whom she esteems and admires."

"I think not, for I have already aroused your deepest interest in my unfortunate position."

"Indeed!"

"Certainly; because one is implicated whom," Monsieur Roche glanced into my face and smiled, "you esteem and admire."

"I repeat that you are a poor diplomat," I cried, angrily, "and I will prove it. Because you have chosen to insult my friend, because you have chosen to insinuate that he is a traitor and a thief, I renounce my position. I refuse this commission and all others, and I have the honor to wish you good-day and good-bye. Now, monsieur, have I proved that you are a poor diplomat? A child in what you count yourself a master?"

I had risen, and stood looking down upon him, and I felt there was a tinge of scorn and perhaps contempt in my glance, but he took my hand and gently drew me down to the lounge beside him.

"You have only proved," he said, "what a woman's true regard is worth. _Mon Dieu!_ how could any man be a traitor whom you have placed so high in your esteem?"

"Then I have misunderstood you," I quickly answered. "I take back to myself all that I have said. I become a penitent, I accept this and all other commissions, and think you, monsieur, absolutely the best and nicest man in Paris."

He looked at me with almost a twinkle in his eyes, and then, "Am I not a good diplomat?" he mildly interjected.

"You are a most unscrupulous politician," I answered. "You never suspected Gaspard?"

"Never. I was merely quickening your interest in the position. Am I not a good diplomat?"

"You're the most irritating middle-aged man in France."

My companion shrugged his shoulders, smiled for a moment, and then leaned towards me. "I did not steal it, and Gaspard did not." He raised his eyebrows.

"Hun Sun stole it himself."

"Precisely my own opinion," Monsieur Roche murmured, appreciatively. "He, although a chosen envoy to France, is against us. He was bound to deliver his message, but in the same instant he rendered it futile. We cannot own that we have lost the seal, and without it we cannot accept."

"And your object in seeking me at such an hour is to ask me to regain the seal?"

"Yes, _ma chere_, you are the one woman in the world who is brilliant enough to do it, because--"

"Not so much sugar, if you please, monsieur. Thank you;" and I took my cup from his hand, leaving him to apply my remark in its double sense, and smiled with satisfaction because I noticed that Paul was cutting figures and flourishes in solitude. I knew that empty-headed woman would bore him.

"But I may count upon your assistance?" Monsieur le Premier plaintively interjected.

"To regain the seal is utterly impossible," I quietly answered.

"Impossible?"

"Altogether. The man who could rob you before your very eyes is too clever to allow himself to be robbed in turn. I do not care for missions without a hope of success. There is but one thing you can do: bribe Hun Sun to come over to the side of France."

"Unfortunately, Hun Sun has departed for the land where bribery is unknown."

I sat forward in my seat in amazement; even monsieur's diplomatic manner of putting it did not completely hide his meaning.

"When did it happen?"

"Late last night. He returned from his appointment with me to his suite at L'Imperatrice Hotel, and, after transacting some business with his secretary Ling Wen, retired for the night, and forever. Living diplomats mourn a talented man, who has gone to join the politicians who have preceded him--or, at least, some of them."

"And that being so, _mon ami_, I undertake the mission. You may make your plans, for I promise you shall have the seal within twenty-four hours--unless," I added, "it was never taken to the hotel."

"You mean it?" he cried, a flush of pleasure chasing the sallow lines of worry from his face.

"In spite of cheap masculine cynicism, _mon cher_, a woman sometimes means what she says. I think I can regain it for you. Where is the--"

"The body was removed secretly in the early morning to the Chinese Embassy."