“Nothing you could say or do could ever offend me, Mademoiselle Gabrielle. With you I am as clay in the hands of the potter.”
“Nay, if you put it merely on grounds personal to myself, I can urge nothing,” said Gabrielle, sadly and reluctantly.
“Yet they are the only grounds that will prevail with me,” he answered. “The lot of these people is much to you, you say; then you would of a surety make sacrifices to help them? Is it not so?”
“I would do anything in my power,” she said warmly.
“That remains to be proved,” he retorted, smiling as he looked searchingly at her. “Perhaps I may take that as a challenge and put you to a test. Your petition here”—he drew it out and opened it. “You urge me to recall this last ordinance of mine and take off the new imposts on food.”
“The people will starve if you do not, monsieur.”
“Well, let them starve, then. I must have money, and money can only be raised by such means. But if I were to grant you this favour, make this sacrifice for you, what sacrifice would you make in your turn, what favour would you grant me?”
His eyes were glowing as he turned them upon her while waiting for her reply.
“I do not understand your lordship,” said Gabrielle, meeting his glance with her calm innocent gaze.
“Or is it that you will not?” he asked insolently. “Supposing I agree that your influence shall prevail with me and that in the government of Morvaix you and I shall act together: you inspiring with your lofty motives, I executing with the powers at my command. If we try it for a year, two years, three years—any time you like to fix—what would be my reward?”