"Excellency, I beg of you——"
"Please let me finish. For political reasons, the fact of my presence here and my mission should be kept a secret. My friends, therefore, would not wish to call upon General Potiorek, the governor, for soldiers or police, if my liberty can be secured quietly—without commotion. I am willing to meet you upon any reasonable grounds."
Marishka paused, for the man had risen and was pacing the floor slowly.
"Ah, Excellency, I, too, will waste no further speech, for I see that you are a woman of the world, and I, Beg of Rataj, am only a seller of rugs. But I am placed in a difficult position. It has pained me deeply to see you constrained to stay in my poor house against your will. And yet, what would you? His Excellency has done me many favors, and gratitude is one of the strongest traits in a nature which suffers much misuse. I do not know anything of politics, or of the controversy between you, and I have simply obeyed the dictates of my heart in giving his Excellency some proof—some return of his kindnesses to me. But since I have seen you, heard your voice, felt the distinction of your presence in my poor house, I am torn between my emotions—of gratitude and of pity."
"How much do you want?" said Marishka quietly.
"Excellency, the brutality of the words!"
"I mean them. How much?"
The man's keen eyes appraised her quickly and then looked away, but he sank upon his cushion again, wagging his head and breathing a deep sigh to measure his humiliation.
"I am but a poor man, Excellency," he sighed again.
Upon Marishka's wrist was a bracelet set with diamonds. She slipped it off quickly and handed it to him.