Marie, unconsciously perhaps, drew away from the speaker.
“You are trying to steal a husband from his wife! You would put an innocent woman away in order to gratify your ambition! Oh, Pauline!”
There was on Marie’s face a look that went directly to Pauline’s heart.
“Listen, Marie, and see whether there be not some justification for me. It is some months ago since I first guessed Alexander’s feelings towards me. Knowing the love of a wedded Czar to be dishonour I avoided all places where I was likely to meet him. But one night, quite by accident, we met at a masquerade. No, not the Sumaroff fête; this was one that took place a few days before Paul’s death.—Before I had seen Lord Courtenay,” she murmured to herself.—“He came upon me when I was alone; he held my hands in his, and asked why I had of late avoided him. Then all in a moment he uttered a flow of wild passionate words that—that—well, I will not deny it, they were sweet to me. But, remembering from whom they came, I strove to put them aside. ‘Your love must be given to Elizavetta,’ I murmured, ‘and to her only.’ Ah! if you could have seen his look of sorrow. ‘Elizavetta,’ he answered, ‘has already taken to herself a lover.’ If this be true, if the Czarina be faithless to her husband, is he justified in retaining her as his wife?”
“You are dealing in ‘ifs,’” replied Marie. “Have you any proof that the Czarina is false?”
“The Empress has been under espionage for some time; her conduct is very equivocal. When she has given clear proof of guilt her divorce will come.”
“In other words you and Alexander are waiting for her to take the irrevocable step?”
“Something of the sort.”
“And will she?”
“I think so.”