"Yes. You must not forget that you promised me your sword, and I
have taken the liberty of presenting it to her Highness."
"I remember nothing about promising my sword," said Maurice,
gazing ceiling-ward.
"What! There was a mental reservation?"
"No, Madame. I remember my words only too well. I said that I
loved adventure, thoughtless youth that I was, and that I was
easy to be found. Which is all true, and part proved, since I am
here."
"Still, the uniform fits you exceedingly well. The hussars hold
a high place at court."
"Madame," replied he pleasantly, "I appreciate the honor, but at
present my sword and fealty are sworn to my own country. And
besides, I have no desire to take part in the petty squabble
between this country and the kingdom."
The forecast of a storm lay in Madame's gray eyes.
"Eh? You wish to placate me, Madame?" thought Maurice.
"He is right, Madame," interposed the countess. "But away with
politics! It spoils all it touches."
"And away with the duchess, too," put in Fitzgerald, reaching
for a bunch of yellow grapes. "With all due respect to your
cause and beliefs, Madame the duchess, your mistress, is a
bugbear to me.
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