Wilfrid frowned. Selfish and wicked? He did not like to hear such terms in connection with Pauline, whose character he thought he understood much better than did the Duchess.
“I fail to see what she has personally gained by Paul’s death.”
“Her reward, so she hopes, is yet to come.”
The Duchess, as she spoke, compressed her lips with an air which plainly said that the reward, whatever it might be, would not come if she could prevent it.
“I greatly fear,” said Wilfrid, taking a decisive stand, “that even were I persuaded that Pauline de Vaucluse was the wickedest of all the conspirators, I could not treat her in the way you suggest.”
“Why, you must love her!”
Her tone implied pitying scorn for any one who could be captivated by a Pauline de Vaucluse.
“My sentiment toward the Baroness is not love, but friendship. Caring nothing for Paul’s anger she rescued me from the hands of his soldiers. Shall I then requite her good deed by holding her up to the people’s hate? No, I cannot do that, your Highness.”
“She ran no risk. It suited her to play the heroine, knowing that Paul was to die that same night. But I speak to deaf ears, I see.” And then abruptly changing the subject, she added:—
“Lord Courtenay, the Empress bids you ask a reward for your coming service.”