not one whit of it—the Capitalists! Which was the potentate, the great Emperor who owed the bond, or the great Fugger who could afford to put it in the fire? Yes, I do want money. Can you let me have any?"
Her lips moved slightly, she restrained whatever words might rise to them, but she did not repress the disgust that was spoken silently on them.
"You wish to ruin my fortune now?"
"Far from it," laughed Phaulcon. "I am not like the boy who killed his goose of the golden eggs. I would not ruin you on any account; but even if I did, you know very well that any one of your friends would willingly make up any breaches I caused in your wealth."
Where she stood, with one hand leaning idly on the carved ivory of a chess king, she turned with a sudden gesture. He had broken down her haughty silence, her studied contemptuous tranquillity at last. A flush rose over her brow, her lips quivered, not with fear, but with loathing; her eyes flashed fire. All the gentleness that in her moments of abandonment characterised her, and all the languor that at other hours made her so indolently and ironically indifferent, changed into a fearless defiance, the more
