not thank him, they would not praise him. A
traitor? To live he must turn traitor? Ay, but try Petitot, and see if
he would not do the same! Or Baudichon, who could not sleep of nights
for fear--how would he act with death staring him in the face? The
bravest soldiers when disarmed, or called upon to surrender or die,
capitulate without blame. And that was his position.

Life, too; dear, warm life! Life that might hold much for him still.
Hitherto these men and their fellows had hampered and thwarted him,
marred his plans and balked his efforts. Freed from them and supported
by an enlightened and ambitious prince, he might rise to heights
hitherto invisible. He might lift up and cast down at will, might rule
the Council as his creatures, might live to see Berne and the Cantons at
his feet, might leave Geneva the capital of a great and wealthy country.

All this, at his will; or he might die! Die and rot and be forgotten
like a dog that is cast out.

He did not believe in his heart that faith and honour were words;
fetters woven by wise men to hamper fools. He did not believe that all
religions were alike, and good or bad as men made them. But on the one
side was life, and on the other death. And he longed to live.

"I would that I could make you see things as I see them," Basterga
resumed, in a gentle tone. Patiently waiting the other's pleasure he had
not missed an expression of his countenance, and, thinking the moment
ripe, he used his last argument. "Believe me, I have the will, all the
will, to help you. And the terms are not mine. Only I would have you
remember this, Messer Blondel: that others may do what you will not, so
that after all you may find that you have cast life away, and no one the
better. Baudichon, for instance, plays the Brutus in public. But he is a
fearful man, and a timid; and to save himself and his family--he thinks
much of his family--he would do what you will not."

"He would do it!" the Syndic cried passionately. And he struck the
table. "He would, curse him!"

"And he would not forget," Basterga continued, with a meaning nod, "that
you had miscalled him!"

"No! But I will be before him!" The Syndic was on his feet again,
shaking like a leaf.

"Ay?" Basterga blew his nose to hide the flash of triumph that shone in
his eyes. "You will be wise in time? Well, I am not surprised. I thought
that you would not be so mad--that no man could be so mad as to throw
away life for a shadow!"