only saw her as his ally,
his friend. So he spoke to her, as he had done at the Manor, with a
sort of eloquence, of his great theme. He had changed greatly. The
rhetorical, the bizarre, had left his speech. There was no more
grandiloquence than might be expected of a soldier who saw things in
the bright flashes of the battle-field--sharp pinges of colour, the dyes
well soaked in. He had the gift of telling a story: some peculiar
timbre in the voice, some direct dramatic touch. She listened quietly,
impressed and curious. The impossibilities seemed for a moment to vanish
in the big dream, and she herself was a dreamer, a born adventurer among
the wonders of life. Were she a man, she would have been an explorer or
a soldier.

But good judgment returned, and she gathered herself together for the
unpleasant task that lay before her.

She looked him steadily in the eyes. "I have come to tell you that you
must give up this dream," she said slowly. "It can come to nothing but
ill; and in the mishap you may be hurt past repair."

"I shall never give up--this dream," he said, surprised, but firm,
almost dominant.

"Think of these poor folk who surround you, who follow you. Would you
see harm come to them?"

"As soldiers, they will fight for a cause."

"What is--the cause?" she asked meaningly.

"France," was the quiet reply; and there was a strong ring in the tone.

"Not so--you, monsieur!"

"You called me 'sire' once," he said tentatively.

"I called my maid a fool yesterday, under some fleeting influence; one
has moods," she answered.

"If you would call me puppet to-morrow, we might strike a balance and
find--what should we find?"

"An adventurer, I fear," she remarked.

He was not taken aback. "An adventurer truly," he said. "It is a far
travel to France, and there is much to overcome!"

She could scarcely reconcile this acute, self-contained man with the
enthusiast and comedian she had seen in the Cure's garden.

"Monsieur Valmond," she said, "I neither suspect nor accuse; I only
feel. There is something terribly uncertain in this cause of yours, in
your claims. You have no right to waste lives."

"To waste lives?" he asked mechanically.

"Yes; the Government is to proceed against you."

"Ah, yes," he answered. "Monsieur De la Riviere has seen to that; but he
must pay for his interference."

"That is beside the point. If a force comes against you--what then?"

"Then I will act as becomes a Napoleon