When the servants had gone again she remained standing with one elbow resting upon an ebony column under a branch of electric lights, the soft shaded colours from which fell upon her, enhancing her beauty.
“In the train yesterday you said you wished to see me again,” she said slowly in a low seductive voice. “You have had your wish, you see. It is good to be—an American. Will you have the same wish after to-night, I wonder. I wonder,” she added musingly.
“It is a graver question whether you would grant the wish if I expressed it.”
“Do you doubt it? You need not.” And then quickly as if to get on to safer ground, “The wishes of such an American must be commands to—to Russian subjects.”
I winced and my face clouded, and I wished my Imperial character at the bottom of the Black Sea. She was quick to notice the change.
“I have offended you. How?” There was eagerness in her eyes.
“No. I have offended myself, that’s all,” I returned with a little sigh of vexation.
“You are hard to understand,” she murmured softly.
“Without the key to the riddle, yes;” and once more we lapsed into silence. During the pause she resumed her seat.
“M. Boreski should be here now, monsieur,” she said at length, a notable difference in her tone. “You are going to grant his request?”