"Faustus, thou reasonest well. Gentlemen, we have heard the voice of the Church. Fiat voluntas ecclesiæ. Let the combat take place here, and now."
"Good!" commented Paul, who had listened in silence to this dialogue. "It cannot come too soon."
A remark echoed by the ferocious Bora, confident in his ability to overcome the other.
Paul now found his hands grasped by those of admiring ministers, all of whom were anxious that he should forget how near they had come to banishing him by public edict.
In the midst of their congratulations Paul was approached by a lady-in-waiting, who brought word that the princess desired to speak with him ere the duel should begin.
"Go to your dalliance," sneered Bora, who had overheard the message. "It will be your last."
"If your grace will take counsel of an enemy," replied Paul, "you will seek the ministration of a priest, for you never needed it more."
There was something in Paul's quiet and confident manner, something far removed from boasting, that sent a momentary uneasiness to the hearts of both Bora and of his imperial patron, the Czar.
Paul followed his conductress to the sacristy, where he found Barbara attended by her ladies, who had divested her of her heavy coronation robes. The pure white of her silk dress was not whiter than her face at that moment.
At a sign from the princess the attendants withdrew, leaving her alone with Paul.