"It doesn't matter. What I have done is little enough beside what you have suffered for poor bleeding France. At least we are allies."
"You----"
"A Russian----"
"Ah----"
"A modern Russian, Monsieur. A free spirit of the times in which we live. It is the aim of my life to do for my own country what you have done for France."
"But to fight, Mademoiselle----?"
"With subtler weapons than yours. It is to that I dedicate my life----"
She rose suddenly as though realizing that she had already said too much. She picked up the dish and bowl and took an irresolute step away from him. "I would like to ask you to stay, but----"
She paused and whispered quickly. "He comes. Say nothing. Let me tell your story. Perhaps you may remain to sleep here."
And following her glance, he saw a figure emerging from the gloom in the direction of the house, the tall figure of a man, with shoulders bent and eager eyes which, like those of a black nocturnal cat had already caught a pale reflection of the lantern's gleams.