"That is impossible. There is danger. A night journey in a train of uncertain quality——"
"I hope that you will not waste words. I thank you for what you have done, but I—I must go at once——"
Renwick took a pace toward her.
"Countess Strahni, if you will listen to me——"
But he got no farther, for he knew that her will was as strong as his own, and that forgiveness was not to be read in her eyes.
"I beg that you will excuse me, Herr Renwick. The time is short——"
He bowed gravely.
"At least, you will permit me to order you a fiacre——"
She nodded in assent as though to be rid of him and then turned and went up the stairs leaving Renwick to find his way out into the darkness of the street.
Marishka hurried to her room and rang for her maid. In spite of the turbulence of her thoughts, she gave her orders calmly and then prepared for the journey. The imminence of the danger to Sophie Chotek should have obsessed her to the exclusion of all personal considerations, but while she dressed she could not help thinking of the imperturbable impudence of her visitor. His kindness, his thoughtfulness, the fact that he had done her a service, and was at this very moment doing her another, gave her a sense of being in a false position, which made her most uncomfortable. And yet one could not treat with contumely a person who acted in one's interests. His calmness, his assurance enraged her. She would never see him again, of course, but she seemed to feel the need of some final words to convince him of the depth of her disdain. He was so calm, so gravely cheerful, so assured, so maddeningly considerate! She wondered now why she had not led him on to a renewed plea for forgiveness, that she might the more effectually have crushed him.