“Well, Golitzine, we will bring matters to a head as soon as possible, so far as these two people are concerned,” commanded his Majesty. “Let your wife give a concert before the week is out and engage La Belle Quéro and this young Corsini for it.”
The Count bowed. “I will execute your orders, Sire. I agree it would be politic to introduce them under social auspices, rather than strictly business ones. Next week he will be installed at the Opera, and must at once come into touch with her in pursuance of his professional duties.”
“Precisely. That is just what I wish to anticipate. You have, as always, most accurately taken my meaning.”
A gleam of anxiety came into Golitzine’s eyes as he ventured to give a word of warning.
“I trust that your Majesty does not propose to do me the honor of attending this function?”
“Why not? I had rather thought of coming, in order to learn from you how the first act of the comedy was going. What are your objections?”
“You will remember, Sire, the solemn warning Salmoros has given me: that you should show yourself in public as little as possible. I would beseech your Majesty to pay heed to that warning. I cannot bar the suspects from my house. Zouroff, for example, who arrives to-morrow, must receive an invitation.”
The Emperor indulged in an angry gesture. “It has come to something when I have to slink away and hide myself from a traitor like that! But you are right, Count; Salmoros is right. We must bide our time until we can catch them red-handed. Then, Heaven help them! No, I will not attend your wife’s concert, from motives of prudence. But you will let me know early next morning if the scheme is progressing?”