The young man bowed haughtily, his face flushed with anger and his eyes returning the czar’s glance with a defiance equal to his own.
“I am beholden to your Majesty,” he said in a low voice. “Since I have been here, I have had occasion to feel the need of a safe-conduct.”
Peter gave him a searching glance.
“You are pleased to speak in riddles, M. de Lambert,” he said sharply, “but it is well that something has warned you to be cautious. We Russians know how to resent idle interference with our affairs.”
M. de Lambert bit his lip, his face paling a little. “Your Majesty has the advantage,” he said, folding his arms on his breast, “since we cannot meet on terms of equality.”
Peter laughed harshly. “You are a true knight-errant, monsieur,” he said mockingly. “You forget, though, that the arm of Peter Romanoff is not so feeble that he could not do battle, even if he did not wear a crown. Do not be a fool, young man, and waste breath in idle boasts.” Then turning to me, “As for you, M. l’Ambassadeur,” he added bluntly, “I leave it to your conscience if it is consistent with your honor and the honor of France to conceal and aid a little rebel against her master.”
“Your Majesty makes serious charges,” I replied with composure, “but I trust that my honor and that of my country will remain untarnished.”
The czar was already on the stairs, but at my words turned and looked at me. I was lighting the way, holding the taper over my head, and I saw the gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“You are an old fox, Brousson,” he said gravely, “but remember that the fox is no match for the lion, and you are treading on dangerous ground.”
We were at the door, and I stood aside to permit him to pass out, still holding the taper between us.