"There will be deep murmurings to-night in the Muscovite faubourg."
"Which can soon be quelled by a few rounds of grape-shot," commented Zabern, who, like the first Napoleon, was a great believer in the pacificatory virtues of artillery.
"'The princess and Catholicism!'" cried Katina. "Let that be our motto. What matters the defection of the Muscovites, since the Poles will now be doubly loyal."
"Well said, Katina. Pass me the vodka. To the resurrection of Poland!" continued Zabern, raising his glass. "Ah! Katina, when your father Boris and myself first drew breath, we had a motherland. Stanislaus was reigning, and Poland was free. To-day what is she?"
"A lioness in chains of whom the keeper is afraid. One day the lioness will break from her chains, and then woe betide the keeper!"
"You wonder, perhaps, at Katina's patriotism?" whispered Zabern to Paul. "You shall see that she hath good cause for it." And then aloud he added: "What said Czar Nicholas after suppressing the rising of 1830? 'Russia hath a mission to fulfil.' Katina, let the two Englishmen see how holy Russia fulfils her mission. Give them visible proof. You know what I mean."
Paul, entirely ignorant of Zabern's object, wondered why Katina should start, and why she should cast a glance of anguish at the speaker.
"Do you seek to humiliate me, marshal?"
"No, I seek to gain another sword for Poland," said Zabern gravely, with a significant glance at Paul.
The ordinary woman might very well have hesitated to comply with the marshal's request; but Katina was no ordinary woman. She walked a few paces off, placed the lamp upon the table in a suitable position, and then turning her back upon her visitors she began to unlace her jacket, and to loosen and cast back the white linen beneath. A startling act, truly, and yet performed with a modest air.