Part 2 (1/2)
She shrugged her shoulders. ”You seem to have forgot that steel vests do not protect the head; and that several swords might penetrate a guard which one could not.”
”Surely,” he exclaimed, ”surely, you must have loved this man!”
She put his words aside with a wave of her hand.
”My advice is quite impersonal,” she said-”and it is only trite advice at that, as you know. You have yourself considered it already scores of times, and have been deterred only by the danger to yourself.”
He laughed. ”I'm glad you cannot go over to my enemies. You read my mind too accurately.”
”Nonsense,” she retorted; ”Armand knows it quite as well as I, though possibly he may not yet have realized how timid you have grown.”
”Timid!”
She nodded. ”Yes, timid; you had plenty of nerve at first, when the American came; but it seems to have run to water.”
”And I shall lose, you think?”
She tossed the cigarette among the red ashes and arose.
”Why should you win, Ferdinand?” she asked-then a sly smile touched her lips-”so far as I have observed, you haven't troubled even so much as to pray for success.”
He leaned forward and drew her back to the place beside him.
”Patience, Madeline, patience,” said he; ”some day I'm going back to Dornlitz.”
”To see the Archduke Armand crowned?” she scoffed.
He bent his head close to her ear. ”I trust so-with the diadem that never fades.”
She laughed. ”Trust and hope are the weapons of the apathetic. Why don't you, at least, deal in predictions; sometimes they inspire deeds.”
”Very good,” he said smilingly. ”I predict that there is another little game for you and me to play in Dornlitz, and that we shall be there before many days.”
”You are an absent-minded prophet,” she said; ”I told you I would not go to Dornlitz.”
”But if I need you, Madeline?”
She shook her head. ”Transfer the game to Paris, or any place outside Valeria, and I will gladly be your partner.”
He took her hand. ”Will nothing persuade you?”
She faced him instantly. ”Nothing, my lord, nothing, so long as Frederick is king.”
The Duke lifted her hand and tapped it softly against his cheek.
”Tres bien ma chere, tres bien,” he said; then frowned, as Mrs. Spencer's maid entered.
”Pour Monsieur le Duc,” she curtsied.
Lotzen took the card from the salver and turned it over.