"It is a little difficult at first," said the unhappy warrior lugubriously.
"So much the better," said Mlle de Tricotrin. "Pretend it is impossible. They must not think you see through them. Let no one get a sight of this report. Go on just as before; keep their eyes shut a few days longer, and leave the rest to me."
"But, my dear mademoiselle," objected Dolabella, "you cannot appreciate what it is you ask. You, no doubt, being a Frenchwoman, are used to revolutions. But to me they are unusual occurrences, and I cannot help them making me a little anxious and nervous. How can you ask me to further this desperate plot now I am aware of its enormity, on the mere chance that you, a woman——"
"Hush, my General!" she said, putting her little soft hand over his mouth, with the prettiest gesture in the world, and looking with all her art into his dazzled eyes. "Is it possible you distrust your déesse?"
"If I distrust, mademoiselle," said the soft-hearted soldier, utterly overcome, "at least it is impossible to resist. I will act implicitly by your directions. Deign to tell me what they are at this moment."
For a little while she paced up and down the room, not regarding her foolish adorer. Her face was flushed and agitated, as thoughts, good and evil, battled once more for supremacy. Love whispered revenge, and love whispered devotion. To which voice would she give ear at last? She felt it in her power to lift up the man who had discarded her to his throne again, or to condemn him for ever to the life which she knew would soon become intolerable to his refinement. Suddenly she paused before the General.
"Place Captain Pertinax under my orders, and send him to me at once."
Like a queen she gave him her command, held her hand for him to kiss, and waved his dismissal without another word.