‘It is foolish,’ she said, ‘and dangerous. What if the Tsar should see me and say something, or even look something? all would then be lost. Remember, I would die rather than be chosen by him. Moreover, does Mazeppa think that the Grand Duchess forgets so easily? Tell him that I was sent for to the palace and that the Tsar kissed my hand. That was my death warrant unless I escape. I tell you, as I myself was told by her Highness, that I am kept in reserve as a kind of trump card: these other maidens are a mere concession to the Tsarish custom and to the feared expostulations of the Boyars, who are accustomed to enjoy the chance of providing each Tsar with a bride. The Tsar will not look seriously at them. It is mere foolishness to bring me into the lion’s den. How shall I come forth again, think you?’
‘Mazeppa, I suppose, has some scheme for your salvation. It is he that suggests it: he would scarcely place you in the lion’s den—he of all others—unless he knew of a way to get you out again, and once for all!’
‘Why he of all others?’ asked Vera.
‘You seem to have left your fate in his hands: he will help you to escape, but be sure that he intends to profit by your devotion to him!’
‘My devotion to him? You use a foolish term, sir. There is no speculation in Mazeppa’s generosity. He has offered to help me from motives of pure sympathy. He would not see me made a living sacrifice.’
‘Why think you so well of Mazeppa?’ I asked.
‘He has understood my position and has offered to save me from that which would be worse than death to me. There has been no talk of reward. He wishes for none and asks none. As for devotion, that—as I say—was a foolish expression. There is no such thing on either side.’
‘So be it,’ I said; ‘only be sure that Mazeppa is not one to labour for nothing.’
Vera was silent for a little while. At last she spoke.
‘I see that you imply more than you say. Do you then know so much of Mazeppa that you mistrust his motives in offering to assist me?’