Though Wilfrid tried not to be conceited, his own judgment told him that the second profile was preferable to the first, and so thought Pauline.
“H’m, an improvement, certainly,” she said, holding her head upon one side and surveying her handiwork. “So I am to read your character thus,” she added quizzically. “Amiable and intellectual, herein running parallel with Alexander, but differing from Alexander in having a strong will. I trust that in Alexander’s case you are in error, for ’twill be a pity if weakness of will should prevent him from carrying out the good reforms he has in mind.”
They returned to their chairs and to their tea.
“Since you know the Czarovitch so well,” said Wilfrid, “I presume you know also his aide-de-camp, Prince Ouvaroff?”
“Do you know him?” she asked.
“Serge and I are friends of several years’ standing,” replied Wilfrid, very much doubting, however, whether the term “friends” was any longer applicable to the relationship between himself and Ouvaroff.
Pauline’s face assumed a somewhat whimsical expression. “Poor Ouvaroff!”
“Why that sigh?” smiled Wilfrid.
“Lovers may come, and lovers may go, but Ouvaroff remains faithful for ever.”
This to Wilfrid was a most surprising piece of news.