It somewhat piqued Wilfrid to think that the Empress should hold him as one incapable of doing a just and generous deed without hope of payment. She was forgetting that he was an Englishman, and a Courtenay.
“Ah, yes! my reward,” he murmured, wondering what answer to make. Then, all in a moment, a romantic and daring idea suggested itself.
“The reward I claim—nay, insist upon—is one that the Empress cannot give. It must come from you.”
“From me?” she said, in a tone that somehow thrilled Wilfrid to the heart.
“It is that if I succeed in deposing the Ministry, you will give me——”
“What?” as he hesitated.
“A kiss.”
Strange that it cost Wilfrid a greater effort to say these two little words than it did to face the fiery Paul.
But the Duchess!
First she drew a sharp breath; then she started back, in her eyes a look of anger so deep that it made Wilfrid almost regret his bold request.