I declined the wine of my country, and answered him that Athos, as I had learned, was a man of high character who had lately joined the Foreign Office, a keen imperialist, happily married and rich.
“Then certainly it cannot be the wife.”
“No, I think I said so; I am thankful to be able to say that it is not. But what part the woman has in this muddle is past my comprehension.”
“Stop a little,” said my D’Artagnan. “You are having a good deal of trouble to keep this short-legged Emperor from getting John Bull and the rest to bully us into peace.”
“Yes, there has been trouble brewing all summer.” I could not imagine what the man was after.
“Well, the woman seemed pleased when she learned that you were an American. You said so, and also that the count charged you with being in that affair. He slipped up a bit there. He seemed to believe you to be engaged in something of which he did not want to talk freely.”
“Yes, that is true.”
The blue eyes held mine for a moment, and then he inquired, “Was she—” and he paused.
“My dear captain, she is an American and a lady.”