For the moment I was taken unawares and hesitated to reply, and he laughed.
“You must inquire of the Councillor Zotof,” I said with composure, meeting his eye.
“If rumor makes no mistake, sir,” he rejoined quietly, “the councillor is anxious to know.”
I had risen to take my leave. I was disappointed at the failure of my effort, and no longer disturbed by his inquiry.
“You ask a good deal, monsieur,” I remarked calmly. “If the young lady’s uncle cannot find her, certainly a stranger could not.”
He was still laughing softly and regarding me from beneath his drooping lids.
“The czar may not think the same,” he said gently, “and it will be difficult to avoid an explanation. As your friend, M. le Maréchal, I warn you.”
I thanked him and withdrew, satisfied that he was really unable to prevent M. de Lambert’s dismissal, but still gravely uncertain of his intentions toward Najine. He would never accept his defeat with resignation, and I had no doubt that he and Catherine were deep in plot and counterplot. Meanwhile M. Guillaume would remain in Moscow at his peril, and I shared Zénaïde’s feeling of personal responsibility. I must send him away at once, or conceal him; and he would dispute either expedient. Never was man more perplexed than I, as I walked slowly toward my quarters. Mademoiselle, for the time, was safe, but it was manifest that the Livonian girl was still out of favor, and the czar’s fancy for Najine was likely to prevail; and, after all, would she still persist in her repugnance to a crown?
When I entered the house, Pierrot met me with a grave face.
“M. de Lambert has not returned,” he said quietly, “and he went out without eating a morsel.”