“Trewinnard has furnished me with reports,” he said hastily, motioning her to a chair. “What you have to say, please say quickly, as I have much to do and am leaving for Moscow to-night. Be seated.”
“I am here for two reasons,” she said, seating herself opposite to where he had sunk back into his big padded writing-chair, “to explain what you are pleased to term my conduct, and also to place your Majesty in possession of certain facts which have been very carefully hidden from you.”
“Another plot—eh?” he snapped. “There are plots everywhere just now.”
“A plot—yes—but not a revolutionary one,” was her answer.
“Leave such things to Markoff or to Hartwig. They are not women’s business,” he cried impatiently. “Rather explain your conduct in England. From what I hear, you have so far forgotten what is due to your rank and station as to fall in love with some commoner! Markoff made a long report about it the other day. I have it somewhere,” and he glanced back upon his littered table, whereon lay piled the affairs of a great and powerful Empire.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and I saw that her white-gloved hand twitched nervously. We had travelled together from Petersburg, and upon the journey she had been silent and thoughtful, bracing herself up for an ordeal.
“I care not a jot for any report of General Markoff’s,” she replied boldly. “Indeed, it was mainly to speak of him that I have asked for audience to-day.”
“To tell me something against him, I suppose, just because he has discovered your escapades in England—because he has dared to tell me the truth—eh, Tattie?” he said, with a dry laugh. “So like a woman!”
“If he has told you the truth about me, then it is the first time he has ever told Your Majesty the truth,” she said, looking straight at the Emperor.
The Sovereign glanced first at her with quick surprise and then at myself.