A married diplomat falls under the spell of a femme fatale who uses men like stepping stones -- she'll climb to the top, seduce, and ruin any man, as she robs them of ambition and money with her seductive powers.
an; she interrupted.
"Her eyes, they will be her mother's," she mumbled, sullenly.
"Which will be well," he smiled. "Her mother had beautiful eyes-- wonderful eyes."
"More wonderful than you knew," muttered the old woman. "Had you come a day sooner--"
Still he smiled.
"But I didn't," he replied; and then nodding toward the whimpering thing that the woman held:
"You should guard it well. There is of the best blood of France in its veins." His lips curled, whimsically. "'Tis strange, that, n'es-ce pas? In that small piece of carrion which you hold there upon your knees runs the blood of three kings." Again he laughed, musically. He turned.
He had not seen her stoop. The long-bladed knife struck him in the arm, piercing flesh and vein and sinew, sticking there. Slowly he plucked it forth, and turned to her, still smiling.
"You are old, madame. Do not apologize; it was not your fault."
He took the knife delicately by the tip and with a little