"It is only the dead oak tree that the poison-vine loves. I, Madame, am very much alive."
She flashed a quick smile at him, at once a challenge and a reproach, while Khodkine looked on gravely.
"Only an escaping slave shall break the golden Bough," muttered the literal Shestov soberly.
Zoya Rochal laughed. "You, Grisha Khodkine?" she said significantly.
Khodkine started.
"Or you, Madame," he replied quickly.
"A slave?" she said. "I have escaped from one servitude into another. But to have political opinions in Russia is fortunately no longer a crime."
Rowland looked from one to the other and laughed.
"Monsieur Shestov has rendered me a service," he said with a grin. "I didn't know of this menace. If you, Madame Rochal, desire my life you shall take it at once." He picked up the dagger of Kirylo Ivanitch which had been brought into the house and put upon the table, and thrust the handle toward her. But she shuddered prettily and turned away. "As for you, Monsieur Khodkine," he said coolly, "from this moment I must be upon my guard."
But the Russian saw no humor in this pleasantry.