“Well!”
He did not immediately reply. There was a good deal at stake, and her manner was not encouraging. In the end it came, however.
“Is it true what they are whispering in the city—that you have drunk with Ughtred of Tyrnaus from the King’s cup?”
The Countess rose from her seat with flashing eyes. The Russian stood his ground, however, respectful, insistent, having well calculated the effect of his words.
“What an infamy—that you should dare to come here and ask me such a question. If you will not leave me at once, sir, I myself must return to the house. Your presence here is an insult.”
Domiloff stood in the centre of the path, and his manner was the manner of a man who has something to say, and will surely say it.
“Countess,” he exclaimed, “I can claim no more with you, it is true, than the merest acquaintance, but I beg of you to consider whether I have the reputation of doing foolish things or asking foolish questions. You may not believe it, but I have the good of your country at heart. We in Russia desire an independent Theos. When I see her, therefore, drifting gradually towards certain destruction, I brave all things to save her.”
She regarded him steadfastly, still angry, but a trifle curious.
“Explain yourself, sir—if any explanation is possible.”
“Countess,” he answered, “for the sake of your country, answer my question.”