There was still no anger in the glance she gave me.
“Frankly, I was too overwhelmed for the time by the possible consequences. But this morning I saw that the truth was at once the simplest and best way out.”
“The necessity for the—truth was a little late in emphasizing itself, don’t you think?”
“It seems so to you, no doubt; but I was on the horns of a very awkward dilemma.”
“And Prince Kalkov?”
“Of course he knows it. I came at his instigation.”
“And so you are really an American, and were in Russia as a boy, with your father a diplomatist; and you have been in Germany and France, and speak the languages without any of that horrible English accent; and you understand Russian; and you came here from the Palace; and were driven to the Palace the other evening, having been received with a guard of honour; and you are the living image of our Emperor. Do you know the Emperor, M. American?”
She said it all with such unmistakably good-humoured disbelief that when she had recourse to the term she had freely used the previous night, I could not refrain from smiling.
“The Emperor has done me the honour to make me his friend.”
“You are very fortunate, M.—let me see, what is the name—M. Harper C. Denver,” she replied with a gay laugh. “You are also an excellent actor, having picked up many little gestures of the Emperor himself. It is really a most wonderful coincidence.”