The princess had last heard that voice in the twilight hour by the dark blue sea on the shore of Isola Sacra. The memory of that event came back with a rush that almost stifled her breath.
"His only fault is," pleaded Paul, "that he has been too great a friend."
"To you, but not to our law," she murmured faintly. "My servants must not be law-breakers."
There was a brief interval of silence.
"Your Highness," said Paul, rising to his feet, "I await my sentence."
"You are safe where you stand," she faltered.
Her manner plainly besought him to remain where he was, and thus relieve her from a painful situation.
"I will not take advantage of that."
And by a few steps Paul passed from the jurisdiction of the Czar to that of Barbara.
The look in her eyes was like that of a fawn at bay. Love forbade her to punish Paul, and yet, while meting punishment to others, how, without bringing reproach to herself, could she let him go free?