friend, it is the vanity of old age which forgives not." And the
Marshal, the bitterest tongue in all Bleiberg, reached over and
picked up the cigar which lay by the inkwells. He lit it at one
of the tapers, and sank again into the chair. "Count, how many
games are you playing?"

"My dear Marshal, it was not I who spoke of games. I am playing
no game, save for the legitimate sovereign of this kingdom. I
ask for no reward."

"Disinterested man! The inference is, however, that, since you
have not asked for anything, you have been promised something.
Confess it, and have done."

"Marshal!"

"Well?"

"Is it possible that you suspect me?" The cold eyes grew colder,
and the thin lips almost disappeared.

"When three men watch each other as do Beauvais, Mollendorf and
you, it is because each suspects the other of treachery. You
haven't watched me because I am old, but because I am old I have
been watching you. Mollendorf aspires to greatness, you have
your gaze on the chancellorship, and curse me if the Colonel
isn't looking after my old shoes! Am I to give up my uniform, my
medals and my plume--for nothing? And who the devil is this man
Beauvais, since that is not his name? Is he a fine bird whose
feathers have been plucked?"