Paul, not unwilling to be left alone, sat thinking of Barbara. What would be the state of her feelings when she learned that he was alive? She had accepted his love prior to the knowledge of her high rank. It was not likely that under her changed circumstances she would consider herself bound by her past promises. Granting, however, that she still loved him; granting that the Duke of Bora would be so heroic as to efface himself, marriage was impossible without the forfeiture of that sceptre, which rightfully or wrongfully she now held, and to this sacrifice Paul felt that he could never consent, even if Barbara herself were willing.
His duty was clear. He must live his life apart from her. But before he left Czernova he must have an interview with her. He must see her once more face to face and alone, and he thought of this meeting with feelings of pleasure and pain.
Looking up from this reverie, whom should he see at a little distance but the Duke of Bora, attended by Count Radzivil. The pair were making their way along the balcony of the hotel, apparently with the intention of taking a seat or calling for wine at one of the many little tables spread about.
As the duke drew near, a spirit of latent defiance took possession of Paul. This was the man destined to rob him of Barbara—Barbara who belonged of prior right to himself. It was clearly state-policy that dictated her attitude towards the duke. Paul found it impossible to believe that the delicately-minded and intellectual Barbara could feel any genuine love for this great, clumsy barbarian.
"Let him keep to Natalie, and leave me Barbara. What sort of a lover must he be? Where were his eyes two years ago, that he did not perceive that the returning princess was not his first love? Barbara must have played her part well so to impose upon him. But was he deceived? Does he know the truth, and knowing, make use of it to intimidate Barbara into marrying him?"
A thought which did not tend to increase Paul's amiability.
As the duke passed he eyed Paul askance, and then wheeling round with a suddenness that formed a marked contrast with his previous slowness, he exclaimed in a voice of thunder,—
"You have neither stood nor saluted, sir!"
Paul regarded the fierce Bora with a look of calm surprise. What right had this Czernovese grandee to demand a salute from him—an English officer?
"You have neither stood nor saluted, sir!"