“He looked up quickly.
“‘What friends?’ he asked.
“‘Oh,’ cried I, as though it were a matter of no importance, ‘Count Paul Zaloski, the Governor of the Province, took much interest in the child two years ago. She looked up to him as to a father. He in turn regarded her as his daughter. It may be that Christine has heard some ill news about her benefactor. Possibly that benefactor has come to Vienna, and in that case——’
“I stopped abruptly, aping the air of one who has some great mystery to unfold. It had occurred to me on the instant, excellency, that I had found the means to deal once and for all with Ugo Klun. So deep was the thought of that moment that my hand trembled when I set down my glass, and my brain burnt with excitement. As for the lieutenant, his face had flushed suddenly like the face of a schoolgirl.
“‘Blitzen,’ cried he, ‘I heard something of a Count Paul, but what is that you are saying—her benefactor? Name of the devil, who is he?’
“I drew my chair closer to the table.
“‘Herr Gerold,’ said I—for the intent was now strong upon me—‘if the cause of Christine’s trouble is that which I think it, she may well wear the face of a nun. How and why this comes to be you will hear presently. I am going to tell you a plain story. It is a story which you may be glad to hear—yet which may ultimately rob me of a friend. I am a poor man, and my friends are very dear to me. You see how many holes there are in my coat. Should I be able to help you in an object which is very dear to you, I doubt not that you will remember my claims when the day comes.’
“The thing was wisely said. I could see that my little lieutenant was burning with the fever of impatience.
“‘God be my witness, old Andrea,’ cried he, ‘if you can put me in the way of helping little Christine, I will fill your hat with gold!’
“‘Far be it from me,’ exclaimed I, ‘to seek a reward because I do my duty. Nevertheless, I am old and growing feeble, and ill would it become me to shew ingratitude to my benefactors. I thank you for your promises, Lieutenant. May the day be soon when you shall redeem them! And now to speak of Christine’s relations with Count Paul. I have told you that she regards him as a father. She has reason to. He saved her life when she was perishing of hunger in the mountains. She thinks of him as a friend—it would be impossible for her to think of him otherwise, for he is twice her age—a gloomy man, living like a hermit in a house of gloom. It may be that she would have remained always at Jézero, but for the cruelty of the scoundrel Klun, who dragged her from her happiness that she might be his slave in this city. She was never a wife to him. When she stood before the altar with him, she knew not what the meaning of marriage was. He has no more claim to her love than the first stranger you may meet in yonder street; yet this is the one who threatens her always, saying, “When Count Paul comes to Vienna I will do this and that.” You know well what insults, what cruelties, this man has put upon her. Is not the day near when we should take it upon ourselves to save her from him?’