“Would that he could hear you and see you now, mademoiselle!” I said, for never had she looked more beautiful than in her passionate excitement; her spirited face aglow with emotion, and her blue eyes almost black in their dilation. At my words she recollected her position and blushed, her dark lashes suddenly veiling her glance. She was charming. Zénaïde, seeing her confusion, took her hand and drew her down upon the seat beside her.
“My dear,” she said kindly, “tell us how you learned so quickly of M. de Lambert’s misfortune.”
“Through Neonila,” she replied; and told us briefly that her woman had left word with a faithful relative of their probable refuge, and he had sent instant tidings of M. de Lambert’s fate, learned at once from one of Zotof’s serfs. Najine had acted with her usual impulsiveness, turning a deaf ear to the warnings and remonstrances of her aunt.
While she was talking to my wife, I went out, in time to detain the Swede until I could arrange matters with her, for doubtless she could help us in the execution of our scheme, and returning I unfolded it. Her first thought was one of passionate indignation against Apraxin, whom she despised. Indeed, it was probably the sting of her scorn that spurred him on to many of his acts of treachery and revenge.
“A sullen boy,” she said with her quick disdain; “I was betrothed to him as a child, but would never have married him.”
“We must have this boy, though, mademoiselle,” I remarked, “and, if it can be, without bloodshed. Mayhap, you can devise some way to compass our design.”
She sat thinking for a while. “I will write a line to accompany the ribbon,” she said at last; “nothing is easier, and it will convince him. He is not clever, only cunning. Give me a bit of paper, madame, and a pen, and the deed is soon done.”
I had both at hand, and passed them to her; but she paused with the pen suspended in mid air and looked at me with sudden reproach.
“What a traitor you make me, monsieur!” she exclaimed; “here am I striving to decoy Apraxin into a trap!”
“Treachery begets treachery, mademoiselle,” I replied; “and he intended death, while we—” I laughed and shrugged my shoulders.