hat Alvan
in love was not likely to be governable by prudent counsel. He dropped a
word of the whispers of Clotilde's volatility.

Alvan nodded his perfect assent. 'She is that, she is anything you like;
you cannot exaggerate her for good or evil. She is matchless, colour her
as you please.' Adopting the tone of argument, he said: 'She writes that
letter. Well? It is her writing, and the moment, I am sure of it as hers,
I would not have it unwritten. I love it!' He looked maddish with his
love of the horrible thing, and resumed soberly: 'The point is, that she
has the charm for me. She is plastic in my hands. Other men would waste
the treasure. I make of her what I will, and she knows it, and knows that
she hangs on me to flourish worthily. I breathe the very soul of the
woman into her. As for that letter of hers--' it burnt him this time to
speak of the letter: 'she may write and write! She's weak, thin, a reed;
she--let her be! Say of her when she plays beast--she is absent from
Alvan! I can forgive. The letter's nothing; it means nothing--except
"Thou fool, Alvan, to let me go." Yes, that! Her people are acting tyrant
with her--as legally they have no right to do in this country, and I
shall prove it to them. When I have gained admission to her--and I soon
shall: it can't be refused: I am off to the head of her father's office
to-morrow, and I have only to represent the state of affairs to the
Minister in my language to obtain his authority to demand admission to
her:--then, friend, you will see! I lift my finger, and you will see! At
my request she went back to her mother. I have but to beckon.'

He had cooled to the happy assurance of his authority over her, all the
giants of his system being well in action, and when that is the case with
a big nature it is at rest, or such is the condition of repose granted it
in life.

On the morrow he was off to batter at doors which would have expected
rather the summons of an armed mob at his heels than the strange cry of
the Radical man maltreated by love.

CHAPTER XI

The story of Clotilde's departure from the city, like that of Alvan's,
communicated to her by her maid, was an anticipation of the truth,
disseminated by her parents. She was removed when the swarm of spies and
secret letter-bearers were attaining a position of dignity through the
rumour of legal gentlemen about to direct the movements of the besieging
army.

A stir seemed to her to prognosticate a