"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 hellish 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."

S