“Go away! I’m telephoning.... Hello! Hello! put me through to the Palais de Justice.”
“Monsieur le Ministre!” repeated the servant.
“What is it, in God’s name!”
“It’s a lady crying in the anteroom; she says she must speak to you?”
M. Landais looked up: “A lady? what’s her name?”
“I did not quite
catch her name, sir, but it’s a princess, sir, it seems—the Princess Sonia ...”
“Sonia Danidoff?... What does she want now? Show her in.”
But at that same moment the room door burst open with startling violence. It was Sonia Danidoff, who, beside herself with excitement, had forced her way, despite the secretaries’ objurgations, into the Minister’s private room. The unhappy woman was holding to her forehead a handkerchief, the muslin and lace of which were dyed red.
“Monsieur le Ministre!” cried Sonia, in a voice choked by emotion, “they wouldn’t hear me at the Prefecture! Nobody would listen to a word! Make them do me justice. Look, I have just been the victim of a dreadful assault! The Grand Duchess Alexandra has disfigured me!”