`Heinrich,' she returned, looking him in the face, `take care. I will put up with no dictation.'

Both looked dangerous; and the silence lasted for a measurable interval of time. Then she made haste to have the first word; and with a laugh that rang clear and honest, `Do not be a child,' she said. `I wonder at you. If your assurances are true, you can have no reason to mistrust me, nor I to play you false. The difficulty is to get the Prince out of the palace without scandal. His valets are devoted; his chamberlain a slave; and yet one cry might ruin all.'

`They must be overpowered,' he said, following her to the new ground, `and disappear along with him.'

`And your whole scheme along with them!' she cried. `He does not take his servants when he goes a- hunting: a child could read the truth. No, no; the plan is idiotic; it must be Ratafia's. But hear me. You know the Prince worships me?'

`I know,' he said. `Poor Featherhead, I cross his destiny!'

`Well now,' she continued, `what if I bring him alone out of the palace, to some quiet corner of the Park -- the Flying Mercury, for instance? Gordon can be posted in the thicket; the carriage wait behind the temple; not a cry, not a scuffle, not a footfall; simply, the Prince vanishes! -- What do you say? Am I an able ally? Are my beaux yuex of service? Ah, Heinrich, do not lose your Anna! -- she has power!'

He struck with his open hand upon the chimney. `Witch!' he said, `there is not your match for devilry in Europe. Service! the thing runs on wheels.'

`Kiss me, then, and let me go. I must not miss my Featherhead,' she said.

`Stay, stay,' said the Baron; `not so fast. I wish, upon my soul, that I could trust you; but you are, out and in, so whimsical a devil that I dare not. Hang it, Anna, no; it's not possible!'

`You doubt me, Heinrich?' she cried.

`Doubt is not the word,' said he. `I know you. Once you were clear of me with that paper in your pocket, who knows what you would do with it? -- not you, at least -- nor I. You see,' he added, shaking his head paternally upon the Countess, `you are as vicious as a monkey.'

`I swear to you,' she cried, `by my salvation ...'

`I have no curiosity to hear you swearing,' said the Baron.

`You think that I have no religion? You suppose me destitute of honour. Well,' she said, `see here: I will not argue, but I tell you once for all: leave me this order, and the Prince shall be arrested -- take it from me, and, as certain as I speak, I will upset the coach. Trust me, or fear me: take your choice.' And she offered him the paper.

The Baron, in a great contention of mind, stood irresolute, weighing the two dangers. Once his hand advanced, then dropped. `Well,' he said, `since trust is what you call it ...'

`No more,' she interrupted, `Do not spoil your attitude. And now since you have behaved like a good sort of fellow in the dark, I will condescend to tell you why. I go to the palace to arrange with Gordon; but how is Gordon to obey me? And how can I foresee the hours? It may be midnight; ay, and it may be nightfall; all's a chance; and to act, I must be free and hold the strings of the adventure. And now,' she cried, `your Vivien goes. Dub me your knight!' And she held out her arms and smiled upon him radiant.

`Well,' he said, when he had kissed her, `every man must have his folly; I thank God mine is no worse. Off with you! I have given a child a squib.'