But when she faced him, it was with one of the soft and caressing smiles she could use with such fatal fascination, and which made Moore catch his breath and stare, though it touched the Archduke not at all.
“I thank His Royal Highness, the Governor of Dornlitz,” she said, dropping him another curtsy, “for his consideration and trust, and the promised reward; the latter I decline.... As for Armand Dalberg, I can assure him he will owe me no obligation: it will give me a life-long pleasure to be the means of causing him a life-long regret.”
The Archduke smiled indifferently.
“To that extent, then, I shall feel less obligated,” he replied. “Meanwhile, let us be seated, and receive madame’s instruction for to-night. I shall want the Book seen by more than one person—how many can you arrange to admit?”
“How many do you wish?”
“Three, possibly four.”
“You may bring half a dozen if you like,” she said, “though the fewer, the less chance of failure.”
“Very good—how is it to be managed?”
She drew off her gauntlets, and from one of them took a sheet of note paper—stamped with the Duke’s arms—on which she had sketched roughly so much of the Ferida and its grounds as entered into her plan. Spreading it out, she explained how they were to gain entrance to her apartments; and that there might be no mistake, she went over it again, cautioning them that it must be followed with the most careful precision. At the end, she gave the map to Moore.
“Of course, I shall not expect Your Highness to-night,” she said; “but I hope you will send Colonel Moore; it will be well to have some one who can, if necessary, use both head and sword—though I don’t anticipate the remotest difficulty in your——”