“But surely, Andre-Louis, your views have not been so perverted that you do not see that a governing class is a necessity in any country?”

“Why, of course.  But not necessarily a hereditary one.”

“What else?”

He answered her with an epigram.  “Man, madame, is the child of his own work.  Let there be no inheriting of rights but from such a parent.  Thus a nation’s best will always predominate, and such a nation will achieve greatly.”

“But do you account birth of no importance?”

“Of none, madame — or else my own might trouble me.”  From the deep flush that stained her face, he feared that he had offended by what was almost an indelicacy.  But the reproof that he was expecting did not come.  Instead —

“And does it not?” she asked.  “Never, Andre?”

“Never, madame.  I am content.”

“You have never... never regretted your lack of parents’ care?”

He laughed, sweeping aside her sweet charitable concern that was so superfluous.  “On the contrary, madame, I tremble to think what they might have made of me, and I am grateful to have had the fashioning of myself.”

She looked at him for a moment very sadly, and then, smiling, gently shook her head.

“You do not want self-satisfaction...  Yet I could wish that you saw things differently, Andre.  It is a moment of great opportunities for a young man of talent and spirit.  I could help you; I could help you, perhaps, to go very far if you would permit yourself to be helped after my fashion.”

“Yes,” he thought, “help me to a halter by sending me on treasonable missions to Austria on the Queen’s behalf, like M. de Plougastel.  That would certainly end in a high position for me.”

Aloud he answered more as politeness prompted.  “I am grateful, madame.  But you will see that, holding the ideals I have expressed, I could not serve any cause that is opposed to their realization.”

“You are misled by prejudice, Andre-Louis, by personal grievances.  Will you allow them to stand in the way of your advancement?”

“If what I call ideals were really prejudices, would it be honest of me to run counter to them whilst holding them?”

“If I could convince you that you are mistaken!  I could help you so much to find a worthy employment for the talents you possess.  In the service of the King you would prosper quickly.  Will you think of it, Andre-Louis, and let us talk of this again?”

He answered her with formal, chill politeness.

“I fear that it would be idle, madame.  Yet your interest in me is very flattering, and I thank you.  It is unfortunate for me that I am so headstrong.”

“And now who deals in insincerity?” she asked him.

“Ah, but you see, madame, it is an insincerity that does not mislead.”

And then M. de Kercadiou came in through the window again, and announced fussily that he must be getting back to Meudon, and that he would take his godson with him and set him down at the Rue du Hasard.