I am about her only friend," Courtier proceeded earnestly; "and this is
my last chance--to say nothing of my feeling towards you, which, believe
me, is very cordial."

"Go on, then," Miltoun muttered.

"Forgive me for putting it bluntly. Have you considered what her
position was before she met you?"

Miltoun felt the blood rushing to his face, but he sat still, clenching
his nails into the palms of his hands.

"Yes, yes," said Courtier, "but that attitude of mind--you used to have
it yourself--which decrees either living death, or spiritual adultery
to women, makes my blood boil. You can't deny that those were the
alternatives, and I say you had the right fundamentally to protest
against them, not only in words but deeds. You did protest, I know; but
this present decision of yours is a climb down, as much as to say that
your protest was wrong."

Miltoun rose from his seat. "I cannot discuss this," he said; "I
cannot."

"For her sake, you must. If you give up your public work, you'll spoil
her life a second time."

Miltoun again sat down. At the word 'must' a steely feeling had come to
his aid; his eyes began to resemble the old Cardinal's. "Your nature and
mine, Courtier," he said, "are too far apart; we shall never understand
each other."

"Never mind that," answered Courtier. "Admitting those two alternatives
to be horrible, which you never would have done unless the facts had
been brought home to you personally--"

"That," said Miltoun icily, "I deny your right to say."

"Anyway, you do admit them--if you believe you had not the right to
rescue her, on what principle do you base that belief?"

Miltoun placed his elbow on the table, and leaning his chin on his hand,
regarded the champion of lost causes without speaking. There was such a
turmoil going on within him that with difficulty he could force his lips
to obey him.

"By what right do you ask me that?" he said at last. He saw Courtier's
face grow scarlet, and his fingers twisting furiously at those
flame-like moustaches; but his answer was as steadily ironical as usual.

"Well, I can hardly sit still, my last evening in England, without
lifting a finger, while you immolate a woman to whom I feel like a
brother. I'll tell you what your principle is: Authority, unjust or
just, desirable or undesirable, must be implicitly obeyed. To break a
law, no matter on what provocation, or for whose sake, is to break the
commandment."

"Don't hesitate--say,