"What was it?" She rapped the question out very sharply.
"For one thing I thought it would be interesting to know what the information was which your employers in France wished you to obtain."
"Then you are a spy, after all?" she cried, angrily.
"No. A spy, in the sense you mean, is a person paid by employers to obtain information—as the police used to pay Madame Constans in Paris. I have no employers. I am seeking my own way, and acting for myself. You will see the difference. Now will you tell me what you were sent here to do?"
"You are right in one thing, Christabel—you are easier to hate than to love."
"That does not answer my question."
"I am no spy."
"Henriette! I have been in communication with Paris since I saw you, and a special messenger is now on his way here to me with full tidings. Let us be frank with one another. You promised to advance my fortunes: Count Gustav has made the same promise—why then should you try to deceive me? It is not playing the game fairly."
"I have not tried to deceive you."
"Henriette!" I cried again, this time with a laugh. "What! when you have changed your plans entirely within the last few hours?"