We were alone. There was a long moment of silence. M. Bunau-Varilla watched me with very keen eyes, and then remembering that I was a lady, he pointed to a chair, with a would-be royal gesture, and uttered a few words of welcome in an icy tone.
"I have just heard from M. de Labruyère," I said, "that you are sorry not to have seen me before, but I have been attacked, defended, re-attacked and re-defended by your journal, and before coming to you I wished to find out what your final attitude was to be."
"The Matin, Madame," he replied, less icily, "is entirely at your disposal. As you are no doubt aware, I am the master of public opinion. I change it as I please, I play with it.... Your letter to the Echo de Paris proved to me that you are a woman with brains and character; it pleased me. But I wish to tell you that I know a great deal about you and your past life—more, indeed, than you suppose, and I must tell you at once quite frankly that if you wish to find in me a real defender—which I am anxious to be—I shall expect greater frankness from you, fuller details—even confessions—about all you know that might help us to trace the murderers."
As he spoke he looked me intently in the eyes, as if to intimidate me. I thought, of course, that he was alluding to Félix Faure, to his death, to all that I knew about the President and other prominent men, but later I found out he had something else on his mind—the Rossignol affair, with which I will deal in the next chapter.
In my turn I looked him straight in the eyes, and replied firmly: "Monsieur Bunau-Varilla, if you expect great frankness of me, I expect the same of you. You have just spoken as if you knew things which you really do not know, but are anxious to know. Why are you not plain-spoken and sincere, why don't you tell me what you do know; or think you know?"
In the tone which Napoleon must have used when he congratulated one of his generals, after a brilliant move on a battle-field, M. Bunau-Varilla condescended to say: "Your firmness pleases me." Then he added, very gently and soothingly: "But you are only a woman, and, in spite of your courage, you need guidance. Let the Matin be your guide. If you place yourself in our hands you need fear nothing, and you are bound to reach the goal you have in view."
Finding that the interview had lasted long enough, I rose, bowed slightly, and left the Throne-Room.
CHAPTER XVIII
M. CHARLES SAUERWEIN AND THE ROSSIGNOL
AFFAIR
THE next day M. de Labruyère came with a gentleman I had never seen before. "This is M. Charles Sauerwein, who is a relation of yours and who knows you very well...."
M. Sauerwein, whom I did not know at all, interrupted his colleague: "I have often met you in Society, Madame. I married Mlle. K., who is a cousin of yours." He spoke in a tone which very much displeased me.