Mentchikof cut short her inquiries by informing her briefly of my errand and my failures and successes. She listened with impatience, evidently regarding us both as laggards, and she was restless to achieve some better fortune. When he had finished speaking, she turned upon me suddenly with a searching look.
“Where is Najine Zotof?” she asked sharply.
For the moment I was taken by surprise and returned her look blankly. I had no desire to communicate to her mademoiselle’s hiding-place. She read me through and through with those keen dark eyes of hers, and her full lips curled with a contemptuous smile.
“Do not try to deceive me, M. l’Ambassadeur,” she said dryly; “the fine-spun excuses of the court will not pass with me. You know where mademoiselle is; why does she not come forward and plead for her lover herself? If I were M. de Lambert, I would not value such faint-hearted loyalty.”
“You take a strong view, mademoiselle,” I replied gravely; “it is a difficult point to decide whether or not Mademoiselle Zotof’s presence would injure her cause.”
“Try it,” she exclaimed warmly. “I know the czar. She can do more than fifty diplomats for her lover. I tell you frankly, M. le Vicomte, that if I were in mademoiselle’s place I would appeal to his Majesty at once. I would not lose a moment. I would trust to his generosity—his natural kindness. His Majesty is always approachable, and to no one does simple devotion appeal more strongly. He is the czar, but he is also human.”
Mentchikof had listened in silence, observing her animated features, impressed no doubt, as much as I was, by the impetuosity of her manner. When she ceased speaking, he turned to me gravely.
“Catherine is right,” he said; “the czar is more likely to show mercy to Mademoiselle Zotof than to M. de Lambert—and you could not make such an appeal. Najine can do so, and it may help in a hundred ways;” and he looked at me with a meaning smile.
And I, remembering his threat of a few weeks ago, stood irresolute. Could I trust these two, or was it a scheme to injure mademoiselle? They certainly would not plan to place her in the czar’s way if they believed that it would encourage his passion for her; but what did they intend? I looked at the two faces, and for the time felt thoroughly at sea. Their motives were apparently innocent, but how far could I trust Mentchikof? How far Catherine? Ah, that was the question! Unable to decide at the moment, I temporized.
“And how could she make this appeal?” I inquired calmly, glancing from one to the other.