"It wouldn't do to attempt the same with our princess,—eh, Katina?"
"No. Mild and gracious as she naturally is, I warrant she would flash a dagger before his eyes."
"Since you hate the original so," asked Paul, "why display his portrait?"
"To draw Russian customers, who like to have the face of their little father looking down upon them at the drink. Why should I not levy tribute from the enemy? Their kopeks all go to the good cause. The last visitors to this room were Muscovites; hence that side of the canvas. When Polish patriots come I have a fairer face to show. Behold!"
She turned the picture, and lo! on the back of the canvas was a well-executed portrait of the regnant Princess of Czernova.
"My pretty Janus!" laughed Zabern. "You should have been born a man. What a statesman you would have made! Come, I know your love for the princess. I'll reveal a truth that will make you love her still more. You have always believed her to be of the Greek Church; learn, now, that she is a Catholic."
"Are you not betraying a state secret?" smiled Trevisa.
"No; for the truth is known to all Czernova, or will be in a few hours. That damnable Russophile journal, the 'Kolokol,' came out this afternoon with a long article headed, 'Natalie the Apostate'—an article roundly accusing the princess of Catholicism. Of course the charge is true, and we can't deny it."
"Pity that the truth should first be proclaimed in the columns of a slanderous journal rather than by the princess's ministers from their places in the Diet! How did editor Lipski discover the secret?" asked Trevisa.
"How? Ask the duke," replied Zabern.