"Oh, what do they say?"
"Nothing a Christian can make head or tail of," returned the servant reservedly. "They write now in a hand no honest folk ever used. An old man who ought to have known better—the Jew—he taught the master, and they call it siphon—"
"Cipher, I suppose? It appears the newspapers are right!" resumed the lady. "He is a great man!" and she clapped her hands.
Hedwig regarded her puzzled, till her brow unwrinkling at last, she exclaimed:
"Upon my word, I believe you have fallen in love with master."
"You might have said: I am still in love. That is why I return to his side."
"If you tell him that is the reason," said this speaker, who used much Teutonic frankness to her superiors, "you will astonish him more than you did me by popping in this morning. He will not believe you."
Madame Clemenceau smiled as those women do who can warp men round to their way of thinking.
"But he will! Besides, if it is a difficult task, so much the better—when a deed is impossible, it tempts one."
"Well, as far as I can see, madame, that is an odd idea for you to have had when far away from master."