Luc coloured and looked at her gravely.
“I too have always been ambitious,” she continued, with a slight nervousness; “but women tire—and they cannot achieve what men achieve.” She paused a second, then added hastily, “I can put you on the path to obtain what you desire.”
Luc had the impression that she was not saying what she really wished, but was confused by some agitation into, contrary to her wont, using evasive words.
“You leave me at a loss, Madame,” he answered, with a gentle dignity. “I only understand that you condescend towards me, and for that I am proudly grateful.”
Carola glanced quickly at the firm yet sensitive and delicate lines of his profile—for he did not look towards her as he spoke. She seated herself, but he remained standing.
“Since I was a young girl I have moved among Courts,—France, Austria, Russia,”—she said, “and I have made the acquaintance of some powerful people.” She pressed to her lips a little handkerchief embroidered with gold thread. “One is in the house now—I want you to meet him. He has, I know, a post for you, if you will accept it.”
The Marquis answered earnestly—
“I only wish for some scope in which to work, Madame—the humblest position, if it will but allow me the bare chance of—some achievement.”
Carola suddenly held out her hand.
“I wish I knew you a little better!” she cried, with sudden passion. “I may be making a blunder, Monsieur!”