Barbara laughed scornfully.
"We are not living in the time of the Crusades. Excommunication is an obsolete weapon."
"Not so obsolete as you deem, princess. The Poles are loyal, or shall we say superstitious, Catholics. Many of them will obey the Pope rather than yourself. There will be a cleavage in the ranks of your Polish adherents fatal to your interests. Barbara Lilieska, with the Pope and the Catholic clergy of Czernova alienated from you; with dissension among your own adherents; with the duke and his Muscovite faction opposed to you; with the jealous Czar, ready, nay, eager, to march his armies against the usurping princess who had so often thwarted his policy—it will pass the wit of Zabern himself to keep you upon the throne. Dream not of your coronation. You may ride in state to the cathedral, but only to witness the crowning of Bora. From that ceremony you will return not to this Vistula Palace, but to that Citadel in which you once imprisoned the duke. He hates you bitterly since your rejection of him for Captain Woodville. Now he will be able to wreak his vengeance upon you. You will have to drink deep of the cup of humiliation. Are you prepared for this?"
Barbara sat, pondering over the difficulties of her position. Then amid her troubled thoughts came the memory of Paul and of his mysterious plan, and she took courage.
The cardinal stood silently drinking in the beauty of her face and figure, loving and hating her in the same moment, hoping against hope that she would change her attitude towards him.
So long did Barbara remain mute that the cardinal began to think that her opposition was weakening, and under this delusion he ventured to renew his proposals of love.
"No more such language, my lord," said the princess, her eyes flashing with indignation, "or I call the guard."
"And thereby precipitate your immediate ruin. The news of my imprisonment would cause my nephew Redwitz of Zamoska to put in evidence the three sealed letters. At present the secrets contained within them are unknown even to him; but in a day more all the world would be talking of the impostor-princess of Czernova. There are still seven weeks left to you; why abbreviate your reign?"
Ravenna had spoken without his accustomed caution in revealing the names Redwitz and Zamoska, which last was a small town in Russia, distant a few miles from the Czernovese border. Though trembling with anger at the cardinal's insolence, which a hard necessity compelled her to tolerate, Barbara did not let the phrase "Redwitz of Zamoska" escape her. The words seemed to afford a ray of hope. If these letters could be seized, and the cardinal arrested on one and the same day, why—then—then—
"Barbara Tressilian," said the cardinal quietly, "your aversion to illicit love would seem to combat the theory of heredity."