“Ah, you mean this problem of the North and South—­of slavery.”  The face of the old general became grave.  “I have talked with many,” said he.  “It seems incapable of solution.  But have not your brilliant faculties, my dear Countess, suggested any solution?  We learned to value your counsel over yonder.”

“What could a mere woman do in a matter vast as this?  My General, not all the wisdom of this country has suggested a remedy.  I am but a woman and not wise.  He who attempts to solve this slavery question must do what no statesman in all history has been able to do, what human wisdom here has failed to do for fifty years or more.  America has spent thirty years of statesmanship on this one question, and is just where it started.  This country, as Thomas Jefferson said so long ago, still has the wolf by the ear, but has not killed it and dare not let it go.  Out there—­where I have been—­in the West—­there the new battle must be fought.  Now, my General, what difference, whether America shall help Europe. or Europe shall help America?  The battle for democracy must be fought, in this generation, perhaps again in the next.  What would be the result of that war, if either section won to the destruction of this Union?  Ah! there, my General, is the danger to Hungary, the danger to Europe, to the cause of freedom and humanity.  As I said, Kossuth will find things here to engage his best attention.”

“I know your generosity,” said Zewlinski, swiftly leading her apart and gazing her straight in the face as he spoke, in low tones none else might hear.  “I know how you got your estates yonder—­how wide handed you have been with your revenues.  I know your strange, unhappy life, my dear.  But have a care.  Do not make that life more unhappy.  Do not let your penitence, your devotion, your self-abnegation, carry you too far.  Listen; times are very troublous abroad.  The nations are banding against us—­even France.  He who gives may take.  Let me tell you, be careful.  Do not involve yourself.  Do not jeopardize the good will of Louis Napoleon.  Do not let your warm heart endanger your own good fortune.”

She laughed almost gaily.  “You suggest an idea, my General!” she said.  “I still am rich.  Since I advocate a measure, why should I not enforce it to the best of my ability?  Let Louis Napoleon do as he likes with the widow of a man he murdered!  Bring over our friend Louis Kossuth, General, as soon as you like!  Meantime, I shall be busy here, seeking to set on foot certain little plans of my own.”

“My child, you will be lost!  Forget these matters.  Come back with us to our own country.  You are young, you are beautiful.  You are a woman.  As a patriot we love you, but you are a woman, and we would not rob you of your life.  You are young.  You did not love old St. Auban, who took you from your American mother.  You did not love him—­but you will love some other—­some young, strong man.  Many have sought your hand, my dear.”