On seeing Clemenceau approach his wife, the pretended Marseillais delicately withdrew to the corner of the sideboard where the cigar-stand tempted him.  But he kept his eyes secretly on the two men who gave him more concern than the two women.  He reflected that fate had managed things wisely for his plans, for if Clemenceau had married the incorruptible Jewess, he might have been more surely foiled.  As for Daniels, the amateur apostle who hinted at a union of his people, he might be dangerous or useful.  He determined to put a spy on his track, who might smear his face with ochre and stick an eagle’s feather in his cap so that, if seen to shoot him in a New Mexican canon, that supposed lost Tribe of Israel which include the Apaches would gain the credit of the murder.  While reflecting, his quick ear heard a light loot draw near; he did not look round, sure that it was his new recruit who crept up to him.  It was, indeed, Madame Clemenceau, who put his half-emptied liquor glass upon the sideboard by him.

“No heeltapi in our house, Monsieur!” she exclaimed.

Cantagnac tossed off the concentrated cordial with contempt; his head was not one to be affected by such potations.

“Thank you! have you already opened the trenches?” he asked in an undertone.

“By means of the Italian, yes.  I have entered the stronghold.”

“But he closed the door in your face!”

“No, no; I can open it at any time.”

“Excellent Kisschwasser, this of yours, madame!” exclaimed Von Sendlingen, in his satisfaction speaking the word with a little too accurate a pronunciation to suit a native of the south of France.

“Mark that man!” whispered Rebecca to Clemenceau, whom she had rejoined as he stood by her father.  “Distrust him! his laugh is forced and false!  I am sure that he wishes you evil!”

“Then stay here and shield the house!”

“No; I must go this evening.  Ah, you men of brains laugh at us women for entertaining presentiments.  But we do have them and we must utter them.  Be on your guard!”

“And must you go?” went on Clemenceau to Daniels, as if he expected to find him less resolute than his daughter.

“More than ever!” but, seeing how he had saddened him, he took his hand with much emotion and added:  “Rebecca will explain.  I go away happy to think that the honest men outnumber the other sort and that when we all take hold of hands, we shall see that the scoundrels excluded from our ring will be scarcely worth disabling from farther injury.”

Cesarine, perceiving that her confederate was edging gradually toward the rifle which Antonino had been shooting with and which had been removed from the drawing-room, where the guest for a day had too many opportunities to be alone with it.  To cover his inspection, she suggested that Rebecca should afford the company a final pleasure, a kind of swan’s song, and went and opened the cottage-piano for her.