"That is a pity, Princess Tatyana," he said quietly. "But one day you will learn that I have spoken the truth."
She was silent a moment and then she spoke, trying to measure her words which came hotly in spite of herself.
"What have you done to make me believe in you? What does this flight into Germany mean? These passports--which permit you, who call yourself a loyal Russian, to go into the very heart of your enemy's country without hindrance, without question? And by what right do you carry me against my will to this central committee of Munich, which represents a socialism tainted with the poisons of Potsdam----?"
"I would suggest caution, Prince Tatyana," he interrupted sharply. "You are now in Germany and presently may be placed in a position where such a remark if overheard would put you in great danger."
"The daughter of Prince Samarov is not afraid," she said scornfully.
"Then I shall be afraid for you and protect you in spite of yourself."
Her growing anger had driven prudence to the winds.
"I am no puppet, Gregory Khodkine, to be carried here and there against my will. By what right have you dared do this thing----?"
"By right--of might," he said quietly, "the force that sways Russia and will sway the world." The car had reached a deserted strip of the road and Khodkine drove more slowly. "Listen, Tatyana. Perhaps you did not believe me a while ago when I told you what was in my heart. That is your privilege. But it is mine to serve--and wait----"
"Serve!"