e turn that the discussion was taking, had prudently
disappeared in an adjoining room, the five books of _Revolte_ in a pile
under his arm.

"Stay," said the Nabob to his wife, "it is clear that you don't
understand the terrible plight I am in. Listen."

Heedless of the maids and negresses, with the Oriental's sovereign
indifference for the servant class, he began to draw the picture of his
great embarrassment, his property in Tunis seized, his credit in Paris
lost, his whole life hanging in suspense on the decision of the Chamber,
Hemerlingue's influence with the man who was to make the report, and the
absolute necessity of sacrificing all self-love to such momentous
interests. He talked with great warmth, eager to persuade her, to take
her with him. But she replied, simply: "I will not go," as if it were a
matter of an expedition of no possible consequence, so long that it was
likely to tire her.

"Come, come, it isn't possible that you would say such a thing," he
continued, quivering with excitement. "Remember that my fortune is at
stake, the future of your children, the very name you bear. Everything
is staked on this one concession, which you cannot refuse to make."

He might have talked thus for hours, he would still have been met by the
same determined, invincible obstinacy. A Mademoiselle Afchin could not
call upon a slave.

"I tell you, madame," he exclaimed, savagely, "that slave is worth more
than you. By her shrewdness she has doubled her husband's wealth, while
you on the contrary--"

For the first time in the twelve years of their married life Jansoulet
dared to oppose his wife's will. Was he ashamed of that crime of
_lese-majeste_ or did he realize that such a declaration might dig an
impassable abyss between them? At all events he changed his tone at once
and knelt beside the low bed, with the affectionate, smiling tone one
employs to make children listen to reason.

"My dear little Marthe, I implore you--get up and dress yourself. It's
for your own interest that I ask you to do it, for your luxury, for your
comfort. What will become of you if, by a mere whim, by naughty
wilfulness, we are to be reduced to poverty?"

The word "poverty" conveyed absolutely no meaning to the Levantine. You
could speak of it before her as you speak of death before small
children. It failed to move her, as she had no idea what it was. At all
events she was obstinately determined to remain in bed in her _djebba_,
fo