Vassili noted this with some disgust. He would have preferred that Karl Steinmetz were greedy or more conversational.
“But,” the host added aloud, “ladies are so good. Perhaps you are interested in the peasants?”
Etta looked at Steinmetz, who gave an imperceptible nod.
“Yes,” she answered, “I am.”
Vassili followed her glance, and found Steinmetz eating with grave appreciation of the fare provided.
“Ah!” he said in an expectant tone; “then you will no doubt pass much of your time in endeavoring to alleviate their troubles—their self-inflicted troubles, with all deference to ce cher prince.”
“Why with deference to me?” asked Paul, looking up quietly, with something in his steady gaze that made Maggie glance anxiously at Steinmetz.
“Well, I understand that you hold different opinions,” said the Russian.
“Not at all,” answered Paul. “I admit that the peasants have themselves to blame—just as a dog has himself to blame when he is caught in a trap.”
“Is the case analogous? Let me recommend those olives—I have them from Barcelona by a courier.”