"But, madame, were the prince to believe the excuse I should make, following your advice, for my sudden leave-taking, there are others who perhaps would be less credulous."
"That is no concern of mine. You may tell them what you like. The best way would be to say nothing—to anybody; but you must go. Give me your promise."
"Must?"
"You know well that I have the right—that it is my duty—to speak thus."
"And if I refuse to obey?"
"If you refuse, in ten minutes' time two of General Podoi's friends will wait on you with a challenge—discreet friends who will find reasons for a duel that will compromise nobody but myself. The shame of fighting with an old man will be yours, and then you can not stay here."
That good fellow Podoi had little idea that the woman who bore his name was at that moment disposing of his life so calmly. Still, she knew that there was no need to consult her husband in any event, and that in a delicate case of the kind she would find him, as he always was, ready to obey any wish of hers.
Much embarrassed, and knowing not how to get himself out of this downright trap, Paul Meyrin was silent. He was sure that he had to do with a woman that would not give way.
"Come, now," the ex-Countess Barineff went on, dryly, "will you or will you not go?"
"I will go," replied the painter, bowing.