My wife laughed softly. “Poor M. Zotof,” she exclaimed, “I find it in my heart to pity him. Madame his wife will never forgive him for his negligence; and what torture to live with that woman’s tongue!”
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE CZAR’S EQUERRY.
I was resting after my night of continued effort and anxiety when there was another interruption. Pierrot came to me with a troubled face, and announced the arrival of a messenger from the czar.
“He will take no gainsaying, monsieur,” he said; “I made a hundred excuses, but he must see your Excellency at once.”
I rose from my couch with a sigh, and Pierrot helped me to dress.
“Imperial messengers are unfortunately always importunate,” I remarked wearily; “and I have no doubt that this fellow has pressing business,” I added with a smile.
Pierrot’s face changed a little, too, and I think he enjoyed the situation.
“They had a fair start, monsieur,” he remarked quietly, “and M. de Lambert knows how to carry matters through.”
I laughed. “In love affairs he is at least conspicuously successful,” I said, “and he knows how to chastise a villain. How fared it with M. Apraxin when you reached Mentchikof’s house?”
“He had recovered enough to curse us and groan, monsieur,” Pierrot replied gravely; “he was badly bruised, I think, but he was also furious.”