The letter in Dunoisse’s breast became an oppressive burden. His eyes fell under hers. She pursued, with a deepening, intensifying expression and tone of horror and repulsion.
“For that the banquet in which I shared to-night was intended to celebrate this day that has seen the triumph of bad faith and mean deceit, and hideous treachery, over generous confidence and open trust, can be doubted by no one!... And while we ate and drank, and laughed and chatted, sitting at the table of his plenipotentiary, what horrors were taking place in Paris! what crimes were being committed against Law, against Honor, against Humanity, against God!...”
Her voice broke. Innumerable little shining points of moisture started into sight upon her broad, pure forehead, and in the shadow of the silken waves upon her blue-veined temples, and about her pale, quivering lips. She said, lifting her lace handkerchief and wiping the moisture away:
“I speak thus to you, who are an officer of the Army of France; who hold a post of confidence—or so I have been given to understand—on the Prince’s Military Staff. It may be that you prize Success above Integrity, that the result of the coup d’État will justify in your eyes the measures that have been taken to carry it out. But, knowing what I know of you—having heard from that dear lady,—who is now, I earnestly believe, crowned in a more glorious life than that of earth, with the reward of her pure faith and simple virtues,—the story of your renunciation of great fortune and high prospects for the sake of principle and honor—I cannot believe this. If it were so, you would be changed, not only in outward appearance, but in mind, and heart, and soul.”
She added, with an almost wistful smile:
“And I do not wish to find you so. I prefer, when it is possible, to keep my ideals intact.”
“Miss Merling,” returned Dunoisse, “I break no bond of secrecy in saying to you that the coup d’État has long been expected, both by the enemies and the friends of Monseigneur the Prince-President. But although the most minute preparations have been made to insure perfection in the military operations and the proceedings of the police; the friends most depended on by His Highness—the agents most necessary to the execution of his plan—have had no knowledge of what was to be their share in the programme until the moment for action arrived. The Prince, M. de Morny, M. de St. Arnaud, M. de Persigny, Colonel de Fleury, and M. de Maupas, alone shared the secret. And they have kept it well!”
“Too well!” she said, and her arched brows drew into straight lines of condemnation over the severity of her clear gaze. “One would have prayed for less perfection! The plot has been a masterpiece of cool Machiavellian treachery, devised with extraordinary genius, and carried out with consummate skill. It is hinted that Lord Walmerston approves and encourages, if he has not aided and abetted.”.... A shudder rippled through her slight body. “Oh, I knew him subtle as Odysseus,” she said, with starting tears of indignation—“but I never believed him guileful; never imagined that he could justify God-defying, cold-blooded murder as a means to an end. If this indeed be so, those who have termed him England’s typical and representative Englishman”—the tone was of keen, cutting sarcasm—“must find him another description. Hell’s typical and representative devil”—Dunoisse started as the fierce condemnatory sentence rang through the room—“is he whom you call master! The jailer who has turned the key upon the freedom of the people of France!”
“Miss Merling, the ways of Government and Rule are bestrewn with obstacles and beset with pearls,” returned Dunoisse, “and Expediency demands many moral sacrifices on the part of those who sit on the coach-boxes of the world. As a man of honor”—the well-used word fell lightly from his lips as he slightly shrugged his shoulders—“I deplore that they should be necessary! But in the years that have passed since it was my privilege to meet you, I have learned to swim with the stream; to take Life as I find it; and not to ask a greater excess of nobility and virtue from my neighbors than I possess in myself.”
His slight momentary embarrassment had passed away. He had recovered his customary ease and sangfroid, and the acquired manner of his world, self-confident, almost insolent in its cool assurance, lent its meretricious charm to the handsome face and upright gallant figure as he faced her smiling, the ruddy firelight enhancing the brilliancy of his black eyes and the ruddy swarthiness of hue that distinguished him, his supple, well-shaped hand toying with a fine waxed end of the neat black mustache.