Yuki bowed. If she had craved martyrdom, here were assuring circumstances. Pierre's thoughtless words, Haganè's passionate calm, were prison manacles. They snapped on wrists already scarred. She welcomed the cold compulsion.
"Well," Pierre hurried on, "let us get back to business. To-night, you say? I agree, but where?"
"Should the noble count permit such base use of it, the most suitable spot would be your Legation," said Haganè.
Pierre gave a hiss. His head was on fire again. He must hurry and have things settled before the full conflagration came. "More melodrama! I feel the sincerity of your suggestion. Shall I summon the noble count to be asked?"
"Certainly. I shall await him here. Kindly hasten, as the day already wanes."
Pierre fell back a little, half in derision, half in apprehensive credulity, like a harlequin in two shades.
"You really mean it! Well, I shall go. I will get him if he is to be brought. He must come,—I shall be in need of him. It is all a dream, a fever dream. Will you give parole to stay here till I come back,—you and Yuki?" His bright eyes shot suspiciously from one to the other. There was still so much he did not understand.
Haganè sighed. He assumed the expression of one who has had an insect light upon him and whose dignity forbids him to brush it off.
"Answer the Frenchman, Yuki-ko."
"We will remain, Monsieur Le Beau," said Yuki.