Presently he was alone. His eye grasped every object.
There was not a weapon in sight; only the bayonets on the table,
and he could scarcely hope to escape by use of one of these. A
carafe of water stood on the table. He went to it and half
emptied it. His back was toward the door. Suddenly it opened. He
wheeled, expecting to see the troopers. His surprise was great.
Beauvais was leaning against the door, a half humorous smile on
his lips. The tableau lasted several minutes.
"Well," said Beauvais, "you do not seem very glad to see me."
Maurice remained silent, and continued to gaze at his enemy over
the tops of the upturned bayonets.
"You are, as I said before, a very young man."
"I killed a puppet of yours last night," replied Maurice, with a
peculiar grimness.
"Eh? So it was you? However, Kopf knew too much; he is dead,
thanks to your service. After all, it was a stroke of war; the
princess, whose little rose you have, was to have been a hostage."
"If she had refused to be a wife," Maurice replied.
Beauvais curled his mustache.
"I know a good deal more than Kopf."
"You do, certainly; but you are at a convenient nearness.
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