“You are a young fool,” I said dryly. “Zotof is only doing what he thinks is best for his niece; it would be a mistake to chastise him. If you bagged madame, I should congratulate you with all my heart, for she has the tongue of a vixen. Her husband is following his lights. After all, you make a great evil out of what would seem to many the climax of a noble maid’s ambition,—to ascend a throne.”
I could not forbear tormenting him a little, and he fretted under it, his blood rising to his hair.
“The czar is personally unacceptable to mademoiselle,” he said proudly.
I laughed. “Come, come, M. de Lambert,” I said lightly, “if you were out of the way, would the czar be unacceptable? A gallant soldier, a generous foe, a warm-hearted despot, and, above all, a man of imperial presence. Kings are usually fortunate wooers; we know of one, at least, who has been ever so. Are you not standing in mademoiselle’s light? Ought you not rather to retire generously and behold her Czarina and Grand Duchess of all the Russias? M. Guillaume, you are selfish.”
He sprang to his feet with a passionate gesture, his fine face flushed and his brown eyes kindling; as he confronted me, I thought that I had never seen a better picture of a soldier and a lover.
“M. le Vicomte,” he said, “I love mademoiselle well enough to be generous. If I thought she desired the throne, I would withdraw, but she assures me that she dreads the violence and the passion of the czar; she has no wish to take the place of the wife whom he has divorced. In thinking of the crown, she remembers a poor dishonored woman, in an open postcart, going to hide her uncrowned head behind a convent’s walls. And,” he added, looking at me proudly, “mademoiselle loves me.”
I bowed my head. “Mademoiselle’s will is law,” I said at once; “you have my congratulations, monsieur. When a woman prefers you to a czar, you may consider yourself a fortunate man. I honor her for her constancy.”
“She is an angel,” he replied briefly, as he walked to and fro,—his habit when excited.
“Are you not over-anxious,” I remarked, after a little thought. “Has not madame pushed matters, to alarm and intimidate mademoiselle? Mayhap, there is more smoke than fire. I thought that I saw signs of great favor for the Livonian girl.”
Without a word he walked to the table, and, thrusting his hand into his breast, brought out a packet, and laid a splendid ring in my hand. I recognized it at once, for it bore the double-headed eagle. Turning it over in my palm, I glanced at him interrogatively.