"I have no doubt that what you say is true, Monsieur Khodkine. I am not wise. If I am to be of service here"--Rowland paused significantly, until he found Khodkine's gaze--"if I am to be of service here, I must trust myself into the hands of those who have a deeper insight into the politics of Europe than myself. I have promised Mademoiselle Korasov to stay at Nemi and do what I can. I would like to help." He paused again and then, with an air of frankness: "Perhaps, Monsieur Khodkine, I could do no better than to entrust myself into your hands."
Khodkine turned half toward him, his fine white teeth showing in a smile and then thrust forth a hand in confirmation.
"Can it be that you will trust me?"
"Implicitly."
Khodkine's pale eyes glowed with purpose.
"Ah, that is good, Monsieur Rowlan'. It seems that the hand which guides the destiny of Nemi is still unerring." And then more quietly, "You know what power is yours to command?"
"Mademoiselle Korasov has told me something,--but with skillful advisers--
"All will be well, Monsieur. But you will have many advisers. They are coming here today, but you must select the wheat from the chaff. I shall tell you whom to trust. Russia must be born again. You shall help her in the pains of birth--save her from the malevolent hands which threaten to throttle her in the very act of being."
"It is a great destiny you plan, Monsieur. The society of Nemi may be powerful, but I can hardly believe that such a powerful autocracy as Germany----"
"Tst--Monsieur! You have heard some of the rumblings in the Reichstag. Liebknecht the elder blazed the way. His son has followed----"