I resolved, therefore, not to pledge myself to this witching woman, whose strange personality wielded such fascinating influence.
Few as were the moments that sufficed for these reflections, they were too many for my companion’s patience.
“How came you here to-night so opportunely?” she asked, breaking the silence suddenly.
“You passed me on the other side of the Cathedral Square, and I then observed you were being followed. I followed in my turn, lest you should be in need of assistance.”
“There are not many men in Sofia who would have dared to interfere in such a cause. But for you I should be dead now,” she shuddered, “and the Prince would have had one friend the less—or may I not say, two friends?”
“The Prince will always have a friend in me,” I returned guardedly.
She made a movement of impatience.
“I want no general phrases.” Then after a pause and in a different tone, she added: “Tell me, what arguments are the strongest that I can use with you, my friend? You said just now you were seeking a career. Have you ambitions? If so, I can promise you a splendid fulfilment of them. Do you wish riches? They shall be yours! Have you a heart? I will find you as fair a bride as man’s eyes can rest upon. Have you judgment? Aye, have you anything—except a commitment to the other side—and I can prevail with you. Join us, and before three months are over your head you shall be the Prince’s right hand—and mine.” The subtle witchery of her tone in the last two words was indescribable.
But I would not let her prevail, though her words and manner were well-nigh dazzling enough to carry me out of myself. The magnetism of her mere presence was overpowering.
“You are not fair to me, Countess. A man cannot reason coldly in the presence of such charms as you exert,” I answered, stooping to flattery, though telling the truth.