“Alas!” she exclaimed, “so soon! Do you believe it necessary, M. le Maréchal?”
“Mademoiselle,” I replied, “do you yourself believe that the czar is likely to stand by his action to-night?”
She was silent for a moment, and then shook her head. “I cannot tell,” she said sadly; “he is a passionate and changeful man, and acts, I fear, too often on the impulse of the moment.”
“Mademoiselle,” I replied, “I have the assurance of Alexander Mentchikof that the czar may change at any moment. M. de Lambert must leave Moscow at once, and for all time, if he would be safe; and you must bid him farewell unless—”
I paused and glanced at Guillaume.
“I have told her,” he said, “and she raises a thousand objections to the haste and the danger.”
“I thought you a brave woman, mademoiselle,” I remarked.
“It is not for myself,” she cried with feeling; “it is for him.”
I looked from one to the other. “Ah, mademoiselle,” I said quietly, “I see how it is. I will leave you to M. de Lambert’s persuasion; but time presses, and I shall presently return;” and I went out to find my wife, for I saw that Najine was on the point of yielding, and that her lover would be a far more effective argument than my best eloquence.
I found Zénaïde waiting with impatience for the return of Pierrot. She had arranged everything in her own mind, and was full of impatience to carry out her designs.