“And punishable—how?”
“They might decree my death.”
“My God, and you speak of danger so calmly,” I cried.
“Danger can always be faced, and generally met and overcome, monsieur.”
Her courage was dauntless.
“Does Drexel know of this place—Brabinsk?”
“I think not. But he is a spy by nature, and may have found it out.”
“He would surely tell Vastic and the rest?”
“Surely, no; probably, or possibly, yes. There are limits even to the courage of his baseness.” She paused, and then added, “If he thought you were here, he might do anything.”
I sat thinking intently, distressed and baffled by the knowledge of the dangers among which she moved. She waited for me to speak, and gradually an expression of dismay and pain clouded her features. She was looking for some sign from me, as Emperor, that I would help her to the object always foremost in her thoughts. And receiving none, the belief that she had got her story to me and had yet failed to gain the Imperial protection, chilled and hardened her. And well it might, forsooth.