“I am afraid I do not quite follow your Excellency.”
“Tut, tut, my good young friend. I am quite sure we shall understand each other very quickly. La Belle Quéro, according to report, is very enamoured of you—an artist like herself, a handsome and presentable young man; vastly, in my opinion, superior to the brutal Zouroff. Now, this important thing is—what are your sentiments towards her?”
Nello’s answer was very frank. “I have grown to look upon her simply as a kind and good friend.”
Golitzine drew a breath of relief. It was as he had hoped. The young musician had placed his fancy on one far removed from him, by rank and position. The comparatively coarse charm of the handsome singer could not compete with the youthful beauty of the Princess Nada. A benign expression stole over his lined face.
“And if you knew that Madame Quéro was taking advantage of the hospitality of this country, of her apparently neutral position, to conspire and plot with his Majesty’s sworn enemies, you would be hand and glove with us to find out what you could in order to frustrate her designs?”
“Assuredly, your Excellency.” Nello had started from his seat and spoken with fervour. “My duty and my allegiance is to the Emperor, yourself, and the Baron Salmoros. Madame Quéro, good friend as I believed her to be, counts as nothing.”
“That is precisely what I want to be assured of,” said the Count. “Now, Signor, put that question I suggested to Madame Quéro. It may be she will tell you a deliberate lie. It may be she will seek to entangle you in this plot, and make you one of the conspirators as the price of her favour. I should prefer that, but I think she is too clever to do it. Anyway, report to me how things go, which way they go. And I rely upon it, that you are a faithful servant of the House of Romanoff.”
Nello assured him that he was, and returned to his hotel full of thought.