“I promise you that Solaro shall tell the truth; that on the day following his release you shall be placed in a position to defy this man who believes that you have fallen his victim. Do you agree?”
She was silent for a moment, still distrustful of the man who had so narrowly encompassed her father’s downfall. Yet she recollected that the face of politics changes quickly, and in a low voice and with sudden resolution answered—
“I do.”
He stretched forth his white gloved hand, and without further word she took it in pledge of good faith. She had in her desperation made terms with the enemy, and as the Under-Secretary rose to escort her back through the gay assembly in the state-rooms, a faint, good-humoured smile flitted across his sallow features.
He felt confident that his craft and cunning must succeed—that she would obtain Solaro’s release, and then the triumph for which he had so long and patiently waited would be his.
True, the fate of men’s lives and nations’ destinies was often juggled with in those great gilded halls where the air was heavy with perfume, the ear charmed with delightful music, and the eye dazzled by the glitter of that brilliant court, every member of which, man or woman, schemed, struggled, and intrigued to satisfy their own vices or their own ambitions.