"Yes; I thought him brusque and malicious."
"I know he is at the bottom of this. I'm glad it is over. Did you finish the telegraphic news?"
"Almost all. It says--dear me, Georges!--it says that the Duc de Gramont refuses to accept any pledge from the Spanish ambassador unless that old Von Werther--the German ambassador, you know--guarantees that Prince Leopold von Hohenzollern will never again attempt to mount the Spanish throne!"
There was a silence. The old vicomte stirred restlessly and knocked over some more chessmen.
"Sufficient unto the day--" he said, at last; "the Duc de Gramont is making a mistake to press the matter. The word of the Spanish ambassador is enough--until he breaks it. General Leboeuf might occupy himself in the interim--profitably, I think."
"General Leboeuf is minister of war. What do you mean, Georges?"
"Yes, dear, Leboeuf is minister of war."
"And you think this German prince may some time again--"
"I think France should be ready if he does. Is she ready? Not if Chanzy and I know a Turco from a Kabyle. Perhaps Count Bismarck wants us to press his king for guarantees. I don't trust him. If he does, we should not oblige him. Gramont is making a grave mistake. Suppose the King of Prussia should refuse and say it is not his affair? Then we would be obliged to accept that answer, or--"
"Or what, Georges?"
"Or--well, my dear--or fight. But Gramont is not wicked enough, nor is France crazy enough, to wish to go to war over a contingency--a possibility that might never happen. I foresee a snub for our ambassador at Ems, but that is all. Do you care to play any more? I tipped over my king and his castles."
"Perhaps it is an omen--the King of Prussia, you know, and his fortresses. I feel superstitious, Georges!"
The vicomte smiled and set the pieces up on their proper squares.
"It is settled; the Spanish ambassador pledges his word that Prince Hohenzollern will not be King of Spain. France should be satisfied. It is my move, I believe, and I move so--check to you, my dear!"
"I resign, dearest. Listen! Here come the children up the terrace steps."
"But--but--Helen, you must not resign so soon. Why should you?"
"Because you are already beaten," she laughed, gently--"your king and his castles and all his men! How headstrong you Chasseurs d'Afrique are!"
"I'm not beaten!" said the old man, stoutly, and leaned closer over the board. Then he also laughed, and said, "Tiens! tiens! tiens!" and his wife rose and gave him her arm. Two pretty girls came running up the terrace, and the old vicomte stood up, crying: "Children! Naughty ones! I see you coming! Madame de Morteyn has beaten me at chess. Laugh if you dare! Betty Castlemaine, I see you smiling!"