You believed him very wealthy, but let me tell you that the cash he really had under hand was our petty expense fund.  Judge by that what a capital we control!” exclaimed Von Sendlingen proudly.  “Our poor Gratian the double dealer, seemed not to be loved by the gods any more truly than by his goddess here present, for she let him, unassisted, be thrust down, on falling through a broken bridge, into the mire of a rivulet visible from your window.  There he breathed his last.  Fit death for a traitor!  For our corporation, the untimely, unmanageable passion of this athletic fop might have had grave consequences, and for you.  We did not find the money on his person only a pocketbook stuffed with rubbish, as if he were the victim of some gross deception.  But, have no fear, Madame, we are not going to claim the sum from you, we prefer to let you regard it as a payment on account.  We intend you no mischief, and we intended you none, then; we might have stopped your flight—­that is, I might have done so, but I only threw myself across your path after you ran on, to stay your husband from pursuing you.”

“You were there?” she stammered, more and more frightened at the vastness of the serpent which involved her with its coils, and which was so careless about the loss of its golden scales.

“Enough! all is well that ends well!  You will serve us?”

“But I have repented!”

“Nonsense! you returned home because your husband was suddenly enriched above your dreams.  Your repentance was simply a prompting of moral hygiene for you to take rest before a new and less unlucky flight.  You had the instinctive warning that to the greatly successful inventor, the modern king or knowing man—­for civilization has come round the circle to the point where savagery commenced and the wise man rules—­to the wizard, power, riches, beauty, all gravitate.  Your husband would be courted; duchesses would sue him to place their husbands or gallants on the board of his company—­the dark-eyed charmer whom you ousted in the Munich music hall and whom you foresaw to be your eternal rival, might meet him again.  With you beside him, she might be repulsed—­with you distant, he would surrender at discretion.  What a triumph for your self-conceit and banquet for your senses to make your husband love you even more than when he was the suitor!  Look out! in battling with your husband you say you fight Conscience; with Mademoiselle Daniels, with whom I have had twenty minutes’ pleasant conversation, enlightening him, you would conflict with Virtue.  Tell your husband that the money you offered to help him, came out of our bank, and he will not forgive you or tolerate you this time.  No, for his silence would no longer be loftiness of soul, but complicity of which I do not think him capable,” he grudgingly said.  “He would hand you over to the police, and believe me, the Emperor Napoleon, having a mania on the subject of artillery, would personally instruct his procureur to draw up an indictment against you which would not miss fire.  And were you to escape in France, we should have that abstracted money’s worth from you elsewhere.  Now, dear lady, for how much will you sell us the secret of M. Clemenceau?”