Zerkovitch and his wife were with the Prince, seated over a simple meal, at which Sophy joined them. Marie had watched Sophy's entrance and the Prince's greeting closely; she marked Sophy's excitement betrayed in the familiar signal on her cheek. But the journalist was too excited on his own account to notice other people. He was talking feverishly, throwing his lean body about, and dashing his hands up and down; he hardly paused to welcome the newcomer. He had a thousand plans by which the Prince was to overcome and hold down Slavna. One and all, they had the same defect; they supposed the absence of the danger which they were contrived to meet. They assumed that the soldiers would obey the Commandant, even with the sound of the rifles which had shot Mistitch fresh in their ears.
The Prince listened good-humoredly to his enthusiastic but highly unpractical adherent; but his mind did not follow the talk. Sophy hearkened with the eagerness of a novice—and he watched her face. Marie watched his, remembering how she had prayed Sophy not to come to Slavna. Sophy was here—and Fate had thrown her across the Prince's path. With a woman's preference for the personal, Marie was more occupied with this situation than with the temper of the capital or the measures of the Prince.
At last their host roused himself, and patted Zerkovitch's shoulder indulgently.
"Well, it's good not to fear," he said. "We didn't fear the other night, Mademoiselle de Gruche and I. And all ended well!"
"Ended?" Marie murmured, half under her breath.
The Prince laughed. "You sha'n't make me afraid," he told her, "any more than Zerkovitch shall make me trust Colonel Stafnitz. I can't say more than that." He turned to Sophy. "I think you'd better stay here till we see what's going to happen to-night—and our friends here will do the same. If all's quiet, you can go home to sleep. If not, we can give you quarters—rough ones, I'm afraid." He rose from the table and went to a window. "The crowd's thinner; they've gone off to eat and drink. We shall have one quiet hour, at all events."
An orderly entered and gave him a letter.
He read it, and said: "Tell General Stenovics I will receive him here at two o'clock." When the messenger had gone, he turned round towards the table. "A last appeal, I suppose! With all the old arguments! But the General has nothing to give in exchange for Mistitch. My price would be very high."
"No price! no price!" cried fiery Zerkovitch. "He raised his sword against you! He must die!"
"Yes, he must die." He turned to the window again. Sophy rose from the table and joined him there, looking over the city. Directly beneath was the great gate, flanked on either side by broad, massive walls, which seemed to grow out of the waters of the river. He was aware of her movement, though he had not looked round at her. "I've brought you, too, into this trouble—you, a stranger," he said.