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 will know it and remember me. It is a
question, Mademoiselle, of secret societies. You know that Prussia
is riddled with them."
Mathilde did not answer. He studied her face, which was clean cut
and hard like a marble bust--a good face to hide a secret.
"It is my duty to watch here in Dantzig and to report to the
Emperor.
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