“And now?” I asked, my own voice a fraction unsteady.
She waited before replying, and then looking up frankly said, after an interval, in her usual calm tone—
“It will not now be necessary. You know my story.”
The silence that followed was very embarrassing to me. It was clear she still insisted upon believing I was the Czar. It was in that belief she had spoken, and it was because of that same belief that she and Boreski had been led to break with the man on the previous night. She was so confident the mere recital of her wrongs to me—as the Emperor—would secure the justice, to obtain which was the passionate desire of her life, that I knew how bitter the truth would be when it was forced upon her. It was just an awful mess, and I sighed involuntarily. She looked up in quick questioning perplexity.
“I am looking for some sign from you,” she said anxiously.
“You have not told me of this man Vastic and his friends.”
“I am no Nihilist, monsieur, but I have not hesitated to ally myself with them and to use them. They could obtain certain kinds of information which I was helpless to gain without them, and I was glad to have their help. Indeed, I was compelled to have it.”
“Good God! and didn’t you see the danger?”
“Has my life been so even that I need fear an added risk or two? I have helped them in my turn with money—thousands and thousands of roubles I have given them.” Then, with a quick change to fierceness: “Why did the Government make me an enemy? Why deny me my justice? Why destroy my father and seek to destroy me? Why refuse to hear me? If it was to be war between us, was I to be tender-handed in the weapons I used? Place yourself in my position, monsieur, and say what you would have done.”
“I would not have turned Nihilist,” I answered firmly.