“Stay a moment,” she replied, raising her forefinger with a pretty air. “There is a twofold France, royalist and republican. For which are you?”
“For royalist France, undoubtedly.”
“You hate Bonaparte?”
“I do not love him.”
“Let me whisper a secret. I hate Bonaparte; yes, that is the word—hate. Is not this a dreadful confession to come from the daughter of the Ambassador that represents him? Mon père is a republican, a servant of the Consulate; but as for me—‘Vive le roi’ is my motto. Now, if I, a foe of the Republic, do not scruple to reside under the roof of the French Embassy, why should you not accept its hospitality, at least for a day or two?”
“Will you let me see Monsieur l’Ambassadeur?”
“At present he is out. He will return shortly.”
“It is generous of you to offer me an asylum, but—your father may object. My presence here is certain to bring trouble upon him. The Czar will demand my surrender, and——”
The young lady drew herself up proudly.
“You are my guest, for I invite you here. Mon père is a gentleman, and will not hand his daughter’s guest over to death merely because he has had the manliness not to kneel to a tyrant.”