The Laughing Cavalier Baroness Orczy (bill gates books recommendations txt) 📖

“Were it ten hundred thousand, mejuffrouw, I would not do it unless I knew what you wished to say to the Stadtholder.”

“Sir, can I not move you,” she implored, “this means more to me than I can hope to tell you.” Once again her pride had given way before this new and awful fear that her errand would be in vain, that she had come here as a suppliant before this rogue, that she had humbled her dignity, entreated him, almost knelt to him, and that he, for some base reason which she could not understand, meant to give himself the satisfaction of refusing the fortune which she did promise him.

“Can I not move you,” she reiterated, appealing yet more earnestly, for, womanlike, she could not forget that moment awhile ago, when he had knelt instinctively before her, when the irony had gone from his smile, and the laughter in his mocking eyes had yielded to an inward glow.

He shook his head, but remained unmoved.

“I cannot tell you, sir,” she urged plaintively, “what I would say to the Prince.”

“Is it so deadly a secret then?” he asked.

“Call it that, an you will.”

“A secret that concerns his life?”

“That I did not say.”

“No. It was a guess. A right one methinks.”

“Then if you think so, sir, why not let me go to him?”

“So that you may warn him?”

“You were merely guessing, sir.⁠ ⁠…”

“That you may tell him not to continue his journey,” he insisted, speaking less restrainedly now, as he leaned forward closer to her, her fair curls almost brushing against his cheek as they fluttered in the draught.

“I did not say so,” she murmured.

“Because there is a trap laid for him⁠ ⁠… a trap of which you know.⁠ ⁠…”

“No, no!” she cried involuntarily.

“A trap into which he may fall⁠ ⁠… unknowingly⁠ ⁠… on his way to the north.”

“You say so, sir,” she moaned, “not I.⁠ ⁠…”

“Assassins are on his track⁠ ⁠… an attempt will be made against his life⁠ ⁠… the murderers lie in wait for him⁠ ⁠… even now⁠ ⁠… and you, mejuffrouw, who know who those murderers are⁠ ⁠…”

A cry of anguish rose to her lips.

“No, no, no,” she cried, “it is false⁠ ⁠… you are only guessing⁠ ⁠… remember that I have told you nothing.”

But already the tense expression on his face had gone. He drew himself up to his full height once more and heaved a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of satisfaction.

“Yet in your candour, mejuffrouw, you have told me much,” he said quietly, “confirmed much that I only vaguely guessed. The Stadtholder’s life is in peril and you hold in your feeble little hands the threads of the conspiracy which threatens him⁠ ⁠… is that not why you are here, mejuffrouw⁠ ⁠… a prisoner, as you say, at the goodwill of my employer? I am only guessing, remember, but on your face, meseems that I can read that I do guess aright.”

“Then you will do what I ask?” she exclaimed with a happy little gasp of renewed hope.

“That, mejuffrouw, is I fear me impossible,” he said quietly.

“Impossible? But⁠—just now⁠ ⁠…”

“Just now,” he rejoined with affected carelessness, “I said, mejuffrouw, that I would on no account escort you to Delft without knowing what your purpose is with the Prince of Orange. Even now I do not know, I merely guessed.”

“But,” she entreated, “if I do own that you have guessed aright⁠—partly at any rate⁠—if I do tell you that the Stadtholder’s life might be imperilled if I did not give him a timely word of warning, if⁠ ⁠…”

“Even if you told me all that, mejuffrouw,” he broke in lightly, “if you did bring your pride down so far as to trust a miserable knave with a secret which he might sell for money on the morrow⁠—even then, I fear me, I could not do what you ask.”

“But why not?” she insisted, her voice choking in her throat in the agony of terrible doubt and fear.

“Because the man of whom you spoke just now, the man whom you love, mejuffrouw, has been more farseeing, more prudent than you or I. He hath put it out of my power to render you this service.”

“How?”

“By warning Mynheer Ben Isaje against any attempt at escape on your part, against any attempt at betrayal on mine. Mynheer Ben Isaje is prepared: he hath a guard of ten picked men on the watch, and two more men outside his door. If you tried to leave this house with me without his consent he would prevent you, and I am no match alas! for twelve men.”

“Why should he guard me so?”

“Because he will not be paid if he keep not watch over you.”

“But I’ll swear to return straightway from Delft. I’ll only speak with the Prince and return immediately.⁠ ⁠… Money! always money!” she cried with sudden vehemence, “a great man’s life, the honour of a house, the salvation of the land, are these all to be sacrificed because of the greed and cupidity of men?”

“Shall I call Mynheer Ben Isaje?” asked Diogenes placidly, “mayhap, mejuffrouw, that you could persuade him more easily than me!”

But at this she rose to her feet as suddenly as if she had been stung: the colour in her cheeks deepened, the tears were dry in her eyes.

“You,” she exclaimed, and there was a world of bitter contempt in the tone of her voice, “persuade you who have tricked and fooled me, even while I began to believe in you? You, who for the past half hour have tried to filch a secret from me bit by bit! with lying words you led me into telling you even more than I should! and I, poor fool I thought that I had touched your heart, or that at least there was some spark of loyalty in you which mayhap prompted you to guess that the Prince was in danger. Fool that I was! miserable, wretched fool! to think for a moment that you would lend