‘I am aware of that, Prince.’
‘The disgrace to me would be terrible. I hate him, but he is my son-in-law.’
The Prince paced up and down the room. He was strongly agitated. His pride was wounded, perhaps, as it had never been wounded before. Danevitch remained silent. He had nothing more to say then. Presently the Prince swung round on his heel, and said sternly, and threateningly:
‘Remember this, Danevitch, not only is your own reputation at stake, but the honour of my family. You may risk your reputation as much as you like—it is naught to me; but, by the Virgin! be careful of my honour, or——’
He suddenly checked himself. Danevitch rose, and, with a cold bow, remarked:
‘I will withdraw from this business altogether. What I have learnt shall be a locked secret with me. I wish you good-day, sir.’
‘Stay!’ cried the Prince. ‘I apologize to you. I forgot myself, but make allowance for my feelings. I am in the wrong; you are in the right. Forgive me. This matter must go through, let the consequences be what they may. Though my daughter, my own flesh and blood, be guilty of this crime, she shall suffer. My country—Russia’s interests have the first claim upon me. Pray proceed. I was the father a few minutes ago. I am Prince Ignatof, Russia’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, again.’
He resumed his seat. He was the calm, cold, passionless, unemotional diplomatist once more.
‘Now, then, tell me all,’ he said peremptorily.
‘At this hour I have nothing to tell you. I am here to prefer a request. That I have a motive in making that request, you may take for granted.’