that
with Mathilde few words were best.

He only spoke the thoughts of his age; for ambition was the ruling
passion in men's hearts at this time. All who served the Great
Adventurer gave it the first place in their consideration, and de
Casimir only aped his betters. Though oddly enough the only two of
all the great leaders who were to emerge still greater from the coming
war--Ney and Eugene--thought otherwise on these matters.

"I mean to be great and rich, Mademoiselle," he added after a pause. "I
have risked my life for that purpose half a dozen times."

Mathilde stood looking across the room towards the window. He could
only see her profile and the straight line of her lips. She too was the
product of a generation in which men rose to dazzling heights without
the aid of women.

"I should not have troubled you with these details, Mademoiselle," he
said, watching her. His instinct was very keen, for not one woman in
a thousand, even in those days, would have admitted that love was a
detail. "I should not have mentioned it--had you not given me your
views--so strangely in harmony with my own."

Whatever his nationality, his voice was that of a Pole--rich, musical,
and expressive. He could have made, one would have thought, a very
different sort of love had he wished, or had he been sincere. But he was
an opportunist. This was the sort of love that Mathilde wanted.

He came a step nearer to her and stood resting on his sword--a lean hard
man who had seen much war.

"Until you opened my eyes," he said, "I did not know, or did not care to
know, that love, far from being a drag on ambition, may be a help."

Mathilde made a little movement towards him which she instantly
repressed. The heart is quicker, but the head nearly always has the last
word.

"Mademoiselle," he said--and no doubt he saw the movement and the
restraint--"will you help me now at the beginning of the war, and listen
to me again at the end of it--if I succeed?"

After all, he was modest in his demands.

"Will you help me? Together, Mademoiselle--to what height may we not
rise in these days?"

There was a ring of sincerity in his voice, and her eyes answered it.

"How can I help you?" she asked in a doubting voice.

"Oh, it is a small matter," was the reply. "But it is one in which the
Emperor is personally interested. Such things have a special attraction
for him. The human interest never fails to hold his attention. If I do
well, he wi