“As you please;” and I rose and stepped back against the wall and drew my revolver.
At the sight of it she closed her eyes and threw up her hands with a cry of fear and anguish, and then clasped her hands to her head.
The servant came in then.
“Is the carriage there, Peter?”
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
“Very well.”
He went and closed the door.
“Your Majesty, I beg you for the love of God to go and save your life. Ah, do, do!” she cried distractedly.
“I am not the Emperor, mademoiselle; and without the papers I cannot and will not go.”
She came nearer to me.