"Max?" Olga's face darkened. "No—not Max, but Nadine Mazaroff."
"Nadine Mazaroff?" repeated Diana uncomprehendingly. "Who is Nadine
Mazaroff?"
"She is the woman you knew as Adrienne de Gervais."
"Adrienne? Is that her name—Nadine Mazaroff? Then—then"—Diana's breath came unevenly—"she's not Max's sister?"
"No"—shortly. "She is—or will be within a week—the Grand Duchess of
Ruvania."
"Go on," urged Diana, as the other paused. "Go on. Tell me everything. I know so much already that it can't be breaking faith with any one for you to tell me the whole truth now."
Olga looked at her consideringly.
"No. I suppose, since the journalists have ferreted it out, it won't be a secret much longer," she conceded grimly. "And, in any case, it doesn't matter now. It's all settled." She sighed. "Besides"—with a faint smile—"if I tell you, it will save Max a long story when you meet."
"Yes," replied Diana, an odd expression flitting across her face. "It will save Max a long story—when we meet. Tell me," she continued, with an effort, "tell me about—Nadine Mazaroff."
"Nadine?" cried Olga, with sudden violence. "Nadine Mazaroff is the woman I hate more than any other on this earth!" Her eyes gleamed malevolently. "She stands where Max should stand. If it were not for her the Ruvanian people would have accepted him as their ruler—and overlooked his English mother. But Nadine is the legitimate heir, the child of the late Grand Duke—and Max is thrust out of the succession, because our father's marriage was a morganatic one."