life?"

"You are in a charming mood to-day."

"Which is more than I could say for you the last time we met. You
threatened, stormed, were childish, impossible to a degree."

His face became grave. "We were such good friends once!"

"Once--once?" she asked maliciously. "Once Cain and Abel were a happy
family. When was that once?"

"Two years ago. What talks we had then! I had so looked forward to your
coming again. It was the alluring thing in my life, your arrival," he
went on; "but something came between."

His tone nettled her. He talked as if he had some distant claim on her.

"Something came between?" she repeated slowly, mockingly. "That sounds
melodramatic indeed. What was it came between--a coach-and-four, or a
grand army?"

"Nothing so stately," he answered, piqued by her tone: "a filibuster and
his ragamuffins."

"Ragamufins would be appreciated by Monsieur Valmond's followers, spoken
at the four corners," she answered.

"Then I'll change it," he said: "a ragamuffin and his filibusters."

"The 'ragamuffin' always speaks of his enemies with courtesy, and the
filibusters love their leader," was her pointed rejoinder.

"At half a dollar a day," he answered sharply.

"They get that much from His Excellency, do they?" she asked in real
surprise. "That doesn't look like filibustering, does it?"

"'His Excellency!'" he retorted. "Why won't you look this matter
straight in the face? Napoleon or no Napoleon, the end of this thing is
ruin."

"Take care that you don't get lost in the debris," she said bitingly.

"I can take care of myself. I am sorry to have you mixed up in it."

"You are sorry? How good of you! How paternal!"

"If your husband were here--"

"If my husband were here, you would probably be his best friend," she
rejoined, with acid sweetness; "and I should still have to take care of
myself."

Had he no sense of what was possible to leave unsaid to a woman? She was
very angry, though she was also a little sorry for him; for perhaps in
the long run he would be in the right. But he must pay for his present
stupidity.

"You wrong me," he answered, with a quick burst of feeling. "You are
most unfair. You punish me because I do my public duty; and because I
would do anything in the world for you, you punish me the more. Have you
forgotten two years ago? Is it so easy to your hand, a true and constant
admiration, a sincere homage, that you throw it aside like--"

"Monsieur De la Riviere