As for the Czar, his mind was filled with consternation, rage, and embarrassment. Though he saw before him his missing wife secreted in an alcove with her lover, he was conscious of the ludicrousness of posing as an injured husband, seeing that he was himself caught in the very act of making love to Pauline.
The latter was scarcely less agitated than Marie herself. The deception practised by her during the preceding month was now laid bare to Wilfrid. She had hoped, by making a voluntary confession that night, to dull the edge of his anger. Too late now! After her first hasty glance at the alcove she stood with averted eyes, fearing to meet his reproachful gaze.
Of the four Wilfrid was the least embarrassed, though he scarcely knew how to act in this dilemma.
By the law of God and of man Marie belonged to her husband. Yet a rapid review of the facts—in particular the Czar’s illicit love-making—made Wilfrid hesitate to resign her unconditionally to a man whom she abhorred, and who had vowed his intention of immuring her for life within a convent.
The Czar was the first to break the silence.
“An interesting tableau!” he said with a bitter sneer. “The guilty wife and her paramour hiding from the husband’s gaze.”
Wilfrid’s eyes flashed dangerously, though he was compelled to admit that the accusation was natural in the circumstances.
“A word of caution, Sire. We Courtenays are not accustomed to take insults, even from emperors.”
“Brave words from the hero that fled the duel!”
“There was no fleeing on the part of Lord Courtenay,” said Pauline. “He would have met your Majesty, but when on his way to the rendezvous he was seized by my orders and brought to Runö.”