she had said was
true. If he held to his word there would be war and bloodshed.

On the other hand, if he surrendered, less harm would befall the king,
and the loss of his honor--was it honor?--would be well recompensed for
the remainder of his days by the love of this woman. His long years of
loneliness came back; he wavered. He glanced first at her, then at the
door; one represented all that was desirable in the world, the other
more loneliness, coupled with unutterable regret. Still he wavered, and
finally he fell.

"Madame, will you be my wife?"

"Yes." And it seemed to her that the word, came to her lips by no
volition of hers. As she had grown red but a moment gone, she now grew
correspondingly pale, and her limbs shook. She had irrevocably committed
herself. "No, no!" as she saw him start forward with outstretched arms,
"not my lips till I am your wife! Not my lips; only my hands!"

He covered them with kisses.

"Hush!" as she stepped back.

It was time. Maurice and the countess entered the room. Maurice
glanced from Madame to Fitzgerald and back to Madame; he frowned. The
Englishman, who had never before had cause to dissemble, caught up his
pipe and fumbled it. This act merely discovered his embarrassment to the
keen eyes of his friend. He had forgotten all about Maurice. What would
he say? Maurice was something like a conscience to him, and his heart
grew troubled.

"Madame," Maurice whispered to the countess, "I have lost all faith in
you; you have kept me too long under the stars."

"Confidences?" said Madame, with a swift inquiring glance at the
countess.

"O, no," said Maurice. "I simply complained that Madame the countess
had kept me too long under the stars. But here is Colonel Mollendorf,
freshly returned from Brunnstadt to inform you that the army is fully
prepared for any emergency. Is not that true, Colonel?" as he beheld
that individual standing in the doorway.

"Yes; but how the deuce--your pardon, ladies!--did you find that out?"
demanded the Colonel.

"I guessed it," was the answer. "But there will be no need of an army
now. Come, John, the Colonel, who is no relative of the king's minister
of police, has not the trick of concealing his impatience. He has
something important to say to Madame, and we are in the way. Come along,
AEneas, follow your faithful Achates; Thalia has a rehearsal."

Fitzgerald thrust his pipe into a pocket. "Good night, Madame," he said
diffidently; "and y