It was, to say the least of it, a little bizarre that she should be waiting outside the servants’ quarters, dressed in working-woman’s attire, because she did not want one lover to injure another man who might have been a lover had he chosen.
The minutes sped by; it seemed an eternity to the anxious woman waiting there. Then at last the door was opened cautiously, and Katerina spoke in a low voice.
“A thousand pardons for keeping you waiting so long, Madame, but it was very difficult to get hold of the young Princess. There is a big reception on to-night.”
“I know, I know,” interrupted the singer eagerly. This obliging girl, like most of her class, was apt to be garrulous. “Has she sent an answer?”
Katerina looked a little offended. Her good-humoured young mistress never interrupted her, even in her most prolix moments. She spoke stiffly.
“Yes, Madame, I was coming to that in a second. She has taken certain steps which she devoutly hopes will insure the result you both desire, but of course she cannot be certain.” Suddenly the maid’s tone changed, and she dropped a very profound curtsey. “It is very kind of you, Madame, but it was really not necessary. I am only too pleased to have been of use.”
The change in tone was due to the fact that Madame Quéro had slipped into her hand a substantial sum of money, immediately afterwards disappearing into the darkness.
Although not happy nor assured, she felt relieved to know that something had been done to thwart the Prince’s sinister designs.
She walked swiftly to her carriage, and on her way passed Corsini, who was going in the direction of the Palace with his beloved violin-case in his hand. It was a peculiarity of the Italian that he never drove where he could walk. She shuddered as she wondered if he was going to his doom, or if the Princess’s fervent hopes would be realised.
For a moment a wild impulse urged her to turn back and run after him, to blurt out the truth and implore his silence. But the instinct of self-preservation prevailed and the impulse was combated.