"Shall I tell you?"
"If you care to."
She sat looking at me intently, her soft hand in mine. Then, with a pretty gesture, she placed the other hand over it, and her shoulder came into contact with mine.
"I am Russian," she said. "Is that not an answer?"
"So is Puppsky," I remarked.
For a second an odd expression came over her face and it turned quite white. Then she laughed.
"I'll tell you something," she said. "I have a girl friend. I love her dearly. I have a country. I love it still more dearly. The girl I love is Adelaide, Grand Duchess of Luxemburg. Prussia has practically annexed it. The country I love is Russia. Prussia holds it.... Do you still doubt me?"
"Good Lord," thought I, "how this girl can lie!" But I said: "Tell me about Luxemburg, Countess. Is it true that Prince Ruprecht of Bavaria means to marry the seventeen-year-old sister of the Grand Duchess Adelaide?"
"Yes," she said. And I distinctly heard her teeth snap.
"What sort of man is Ruprecht?" I inquired, to steer the conversation toward easier ground.