“Since you know my name is A. V——, you must know also that I never allow myself to talk about my work.”
The Princess winced under these cold words almost as though she had been physically rebuffed. She clasped her delicately-gloved hands together, and murmured as though to herself:
“He will not believe in me! He will not be convinced!”
I felt myself in a very difficult position. Either this woman was thoroughly repentant, and sincerely anxious to make some genuine communication to me, or else she was an actress whose powers might have excited envy in the Bernhardt herself.
I concluded that I could lose nothing by encouraging her to speak.
“You must pardon me if I seem distrustful,” I said with a wholly sympathetic expression. “I have my principles, and cannot depart from them. But I have every wish to convince you of my personal friendship.”
She interrupted me with a terrible glance.
“Personal friendship! Monsieur, do you know what I have come here to tell you?”
And rising wildly to her feet, she spread out her hands in a gesture of utter despair: