"My compliments, Madame," said a thin crisp voice. "It is a great pleasure to meet you here, so unexpectedly."
Zoya Rochal had recovered herself instantly and forced a laugh.
"You--Herr General! It is--a great pleasure----"
"You grow more beautiful, Madame--with every year. A little pale--perhaps--but it becomes you, like the blossoms upon a meadow in June. You are quite well?"
"Ah, quite, Herr General----"
"It seemed to me that perhaps you were a little nervous."
"It is so long since I have seen you. I thought perhaps that you might be angry at my failure last year----"
"Angry? I? One cannot expect to succeed always." And then, with a malicious grin, "You are not engaged in any propaganda dangerous to the Fatherland?"
"Ah. You--you are unkind. Have I not----?"
"Women are the only uncertain quantity in the world equation," he said slowly, his eyes peering down at her. Then turning to Rowland, he asked quickly, "Your companion is harmless?"