Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/409

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O," said the Prince, softly. He leaned back in his great chair, propping his elbows on his arms, and gazed through the arch of his joined finger-tips into the mellow light of the fire. "So That is the end of business for the day. You have done well, Paul—admirably well. One must not be too merciful to these recalcitrants. It is a crime to have mercy. Do you think me cruel, Paul?"

The secretary smiled uneasily, conscious that he was being played with like a mouse by the handsome, feline Prince, whose voice was never more caressing than when he pronounced sentence of death. "As cruel, Monseigneur, as the Archangel Michael when he shuts the door of hell."

"What a fine answer, Paul! Take care you do not grow too clever: it is a vice which I never tolerate. To the true patriot tolerance is a forbidden luxury. No sentiment of affection would prevent me from having you hanged if you were clever enough to be dangerous. And yet I am very fond of you. Do you remember how we played together by the fountain of St. Barbara, when we were children? We were two ragged little dirty children then, and one was as good as the other; and now I am a great ruler, and you are my secretary and my slave. How wonderful are the ways of Providence!" the Prince concluded, fixing his