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“I would rather smoke something stronger, with your leave.” I took out a cigar, and she lighted a cigarette; and another long silence fell between us. She broke it this time.

“You have made me your enemy, and I have beaten you so far; but you will not find me ungenerous.”

“Generous or ungenerous, I don’t see any way out of the tangle. I won’t listen to any more of your story; and you can’t use those papers. I don’t know what it is you want, and if I did, it would be no use, for I could not grant it. And there’s the deadlock.”

“Is it, after all, necessary that we should be enemies?”

“Apparently it is. There are certain things which I cannot tell you from my side, and certain others I will not hear from you. It is your own fault.” This was very un-Imperial talk, but I was sick of the whole Emperor business, and still suffering from mortification.

The change in my manner appeared to strike her, for she looked at me sharply and replied as if with surprise—

“Have I ventured to ask you for your confidence about yourself, monsieur?”