“No,” she said, “let us be sensible as long as we can. First we must attend to our business.”
“Business!” exclaimed Bonnier. “What have we to do with business? Leave business to the diplomatists and their clerks. Why should lips so charming and beautiful pronounce this cold and dismal word?”
“If I spoke of business, I meant revenge,” said Victoria, fervently. “Give me the papers, Bonnier—the papers that are to ruin Thugut!”
Bonnier took her head between his hands and looked at her with flaming eyes.
“Then you hate him still? You still desire to take revenge on him?” he asked.
“Yes, I hate him!” she exclaimed, “and the happiest day of my life will be the one on which I see him hurled down from his proud eminence, and sneaking alone, miserable, and despised into obscurity.”
“One might, indeed, really believe that she is in earnest, and that truth alone could utter such words,” muttered Bonnier, who constantly held her head in his hands, and thus gazed at her. “Swear to me, Victoria, swear to me by what is most sacred to you, that you hate Thugut, and that you desire to ruin him!”
“I swear it by what is most sacred to me,” she said, solemnly; “I swear it by your love!”
“That is the best and most unequivocal oath, and I will believe you,” said Bonnier, laughing.
“Then you will now give me those papers?” she asked.