"All problems in Bulgaria have their military side," I answered gravely.
The Princess's eyes showed concern. She understood.
"We must not let your horse stand while he is so heated with his problem, Count. If you would like to see me, I shall be at home in an hour from now."
"With your permission, I will call," I said, and saluted her as she drove on. "I will have the search-*light of her woman's wit on the matter," was my thought as I rode home; and, despite the grave and critical reason for the interview, I was yet half disposed to be glad of it, so much store did I set on the opportunity of being in her presence. I could scarcely wait with patience for the minutes to run out until I could start for her house.
Mademoiselle Broumoff was still with her when I arrived.
"You have news of some kind for me, Count?" said the Princess.
"Unfortunately, I bring you bad news, Madame."
"It could not come by a more unwilling messenger, I am sure."
"On my honour, that is true," I said earnestly, touched by her gentle thought.
"And half its sting will be blunted since I hear it from you. What is it? Tell me frankly."
"Its sting cannot but be sharp enough to wound. I fear we have a traitor somewhere high up in our ranks;" and with that I told her what had passed in my interview with the Countess Bokara.
"It is ugly news indeed," she said at the close, profoundly moved. "And as dangerous as it is ugly. What think you of it, Nathalie?"
