“As soldiers, they will fight for a cause.”
“What is—the cause?” she asked meaningly.
“France,” was the quiet reply; and there was a strong ring in the tone.
“Not so—you, monsieur!”
“You called me ‘sire’ once,” he said tentatively.
“I called my maid a fool yesterday, under some fleeting influence; one has moods,” she answered.
“If you would call me puppet to-morrow, we might strike a balance and find—what should we find?”
“An adventurer, I fear,” she remarked.
He was not taken aback. “An adventurer truly,” he said. “It is a far travel to France, and there is much to overcome!”
She could scarcely reconcile this acute, self-contained man with the enthusiast and comedian she had seen in the Cure’s garden.