“I cannot let you. Father has told me how the description of Captain Laroque is everywhere. You are safe for perhaps only a few hours. You must leave at once.”
He thought a moment. “You are right,” he said. “And leave for a greater reason than my own safety. You have an alibi; no one will suspect the sick Princess Valenko. But should I stay, and should we be seen together, I the double of Captain Laroque, you the double of the escaped prisoner—that would rouse a fatal suspicion. Yes—I must leave at once.”
“I was thinking of your safety alone,” said she.
“But to go away to placid safety, leaving you to undertake new perils!” he groaned. If at least she were only safe! He thought of her father, and his fearing love seized at that hope. “Now that your father knows, will he not prevent your activities?”
“Father and I have just had a long talk. He cannot countenance what I do, and I cannot give up doing it. He cannot denounce me; nor will his honour let him continue in power and keep silent. So he is going to resign; he had been considering that, anyhow, for he is close upon seventy. We are going to part—to part in love. He is going to retire to one of his estates.”
“And you,” he cried despairingly, “are going to plunge into new dangers!”
“Whatever danger my country’s freedom requires—I must.”
“Sonya! Oh, Sonya!” and her name came out as a sob.
“But, dear—would you have me suffer these wrongs in silence?” she asked softly.
“I would have my love be safe!” he cried in anguish.