But to her disappointment Paul seemed as formal as a courtier. With his plumed helmet doffed he stood at the distance prescribed by court etiquette waiting for her to speak.
Quick to interpret his secret thought, she saw that he recognized the existence of a wide gulf between them, a gulf that could be crossed only from her side; if there was to be a renewal of love it was for her to take the initiative.
This attitude on his part, though studiously correct, embarrassed her exceedingly.
"I little thought," she began in a low and faltering voice, "when reading of the brave deeds of one Captain Woodville, that the doer of them was known to me. Captain Cressingham," she continued, reverting to the more familiar name, "for two years I have been under the belief that you perished in that Dalmatian earthquake."
"Your Highness, I have been under a similar belief regarding yourself."
"Knowing, as you do," she continued, aimlessly tracing lines on the paper before her, "that I cannot be the real Princess Natalie, you are perhaps of opinion that I have no right to the throne of Czernova?"
"Princess—no! I will believe anything rather than that you are an usurper or an impostor."
The energy with which he spoke attested the sincerity of his belief.
Now for the first time since his entrance the princess raised her eyes, and their flash of gratitude thrilled Paul.
"Your faith in me is not misplaced, for I am truly the lawful Princess of Czernova, though a strange necessity has compelled me to assume the name of my sister Natalie. You shall have the story anon, Captain Cressingham," she continued, in a curiously labored voice, as if the choice of words were a difficulty, "we were parted in a very strange way. You will perhaps have guessed that I was carried off by the orders of Cardinal Ravenna, who acted, however, under the authority of my father, Prince Thaddeus.