“Because if I do not accept his conditions for the return of that letter he will expose me,” she answered in despair.
“Has he threatened this?”
“Yes.”
“And what is your response?”
“I have refused, Gerald. Even though he were not so hateful I could not marry him, because I love you.”
She was trembling with agitation, and tears stood in her fine eyes.
“Love for me is out of the question, Léonie,” I answered kindly, yet firmly. “Now that you find yourself in this critical situation it is for us both to strive to frustrate this enemy of yours. It is my duty to assist you.”
“Ah, you cannot!” she said in a tone of utter despair. “The power he holds over me by possessing the written evidence of my treason—my offer to betray to you the secret of my Emperor—is complete, and he is well aware of it. He demands marriage with me, or he will ruin me, and brand me as a traitress to my country and my Emperor.”
“This man is, of course, now aware of what passed between us during my visit at Chantoiseau?” I said.
“He knows everything,” she answered. “I was living quietly at Rudolstadt, and endeavouring to forget you, when of a sudden, a fortnight ago, there came to the castle a stranger, who sent in his card sealed in an envelope. My servants regarded him with some suspicion, and well they might, for when I opened the envelope and took out the card I knew that at last the blow had fallen. He had dared to come and seek me there.”