I might be, I suppose; but I never yet durst risk the declaration. The chit is so unreal; a mincing doll; she will and she will not; there is no counting on her, by God! And hitherto I have had my own way without, and keep the lover in reserve. And I say, Anna,' he added with severity, `you must break yourself of this new fit, my girl; there must be no combustion.
I keep the creature under the belief that I adore her; and if she caught a breath of you and me, she is such a fool, prude, and dog in the manger, that she is capable of spoiling all.'
`All very fine,' returned the lady. `With whom do you pass your days? and which am I to believe, your words or your actions?'
`Anna, the devil take you, are you blind?' cried Gondremark. `You know me. Am I likely to care for such a preciosa? `Tis hard that we should have been together for so long, and you should still take me for a troubadour.
But if there is one thing that I despise and deprecate, it is all such figures in Berlin wool. Give me a human woman -- like myself. You are my mate; you were made for me; you amuse me like the play. And what have I to gain that I should pretend to you? If I do not love you, what use are you to me? Why, none. It is as clear as noonday.'
`Do you love me, Heinrich?' she asked, languishing. `Do you truly?'
`I tell you,' he cried, `I love you next after myself. I should be all abroad if I had lost you.'
`Well, then,' said she, folding up the paper and putting it calmly in her pocket, `I will believe you, and I join the plot. Count upon me.
At midnight, did you say? It is Gordon, I see, that you have charged with it. Excellent; he will stick at nothing -- `
Gondremark watched her suspiciously. `Why do you take the paper?' he demanded. `Give it here.'
`No,' she returned; `I mean to keep it. It is I who must prepare the stroke; you cannot manage it without me; and to do my best I must possess the paper. Where shall I find Gordon? In his rooms?' She spoke with a rather feverish self-possession.
`Anna,' he said sternly, the black, bilious countenance of his palace ROLE taking the place of the more open favour of his hours at home, `I ask you for that paper. Once, twice, and thrice.'
`Heinrich,' she returned, looking him in the face, `take care.
I will put up with no dictation.'
Both looked dangerous; and the silence lasted for a measurable interval of time. Then she made haste to have the first word; and with a laugh that rang clear and honest, `Do not be a child,' she said. `I wonder at you. If your assurances are true, you can have no reason to mistrust me, nor I to play you false. The difficulty is to get the Prince out of the palace without scandal. His valets are devoted; his chamberlain a slave; and yet one cry might ruin all.'
`They must be overpowered,' he said, following her to the new ground, `and disappear along with him.'
`And your whole scheme along with them!' she cried. `He does not take his servants when he goes a-hunting: a child could read the truth.
No, no; the plan is idiotic; it must be Ratafia's. But hear me. You know the Prince worships me?'
`I know,' he said. `Poor Featherhead, I cross his destiny!'
`Well now,' she continued, `what if I bring him alone out of the palace, to some quiet corner of the Park -- the Flying Mercury, for instance?
Gordon can be posted in the thicket; the carriage wait behind the temple; not a cry, not a scuffle, not a footfall; simply, the Prince vanishes!
-- What do you say? Am I an able ally? Are my beaux yuex of service?
Ah, Heinrich, do not lose your Anna! -- she has power!'
He struck with his open hand upon the chimney. `Witch!' he said, `there is not your match for devilry in Europe. Service! the thing runs on wheels.'
`Kiss me, then, and let me go. I must not miss my Featherhead,' she said.
`Stay, stay,' said the Baron; `not so fast. I wish, upon my soul, that I could trust you; but you are, out and in, so whimsical a devil that I dare not. Hang it, Anna, no; it's not possible!'
`You doubt me, Heinrich?' she cried.
`Doubt is not the word,' said he. `I know you. Once you were clear of me with that paper in your pocket, who knows what you would do with it? -- not you, at least -- nor I. You see,' he added, shaking his head paternally upon the Countess, `you are as vicious as a monkey.'
`I swear to you,' she cried, `by my salvation ...'
`I have no curiosity to hear you swearing,' said the Baron.
`You think that I have no religion? You suppose me destitute of honour. Well,' she said, `see here: I will not argue, but I tell you once for all: leave me this order, and the Prince shall be arrested -- take it from me, and, as certain as I speak, I will upset the coach. Trust me, or fear me: take your choice.' And she offered him the paper.
The Baron, in a great contention of mind, stood irresolute, weighing the two dangers. Once his hand advanced, then dropped. `Well,' he said, `since trust is what you call it ...'
`No more,' she interrupted, `Do not spoil your attitude. And now since you have behaved like a good sort of fellow in the dark, I will condescend to tell you why. I go to the palace to arrange with Gordon; but how is Gordon to obey me? And how can I foresee the hours? It may be midnight; ay, and it may be nightfall; all's a chance; and to act, I must be free and hold the strings of the adventure. And now,' she cried, `your Vivien goes. Dub me your knight!' And she held out her arms and smiled upon him radiant.
`Well,' he said, when he had kissed her, `every man must have his folly; I thank God mine is no worse. Off with you! I have given a child a squib.'