given all he was worth to have dashed after it, and have torn the Countess out of it back to captivity.
"Now let us consider what to do next," I replied.
"There is nothing to do next, or after," he said, in the same moody tone. "When such a woman holds the future of our scheme in her hands we can do nothing but prepare for the worst, and look out for the best means of escape. It will soon be a case of sauve qui peut."
"I shall fight on till it comes, then, and so will you, my friend, when this mood has passed." I took him into my private room and, putting wine and cigars before him, set to work to try and shape a course to suit the altered aspect of affairs.
My own opinion was not much brighter than his; but I sought to persuade him, and myself too, that matters might yet be mended. There was one possible door of hope. The Countess meant to have her revenge, and, as she had frankly said, we must base all our plans on her implacable enmity. But she had other ends than those of mere personal vengeance. She hated Christina bitterly, but she loved the Russians no better. Her aim was to keep her Prince on the throne, and to betray us at once would certainly injure him by forcing General Kolfort to act immediately, not only against us, but against the Prince. The latter would be frightened and jockeyed out of the throne, to make room, not for Christina, but for some more pliable tool; and the Countess was quite shrewd enough to foresee that.
"I am inclined to believe," I said, after we had discussed the position at great length, "that she will seek her ends first by other means than by betraying us to Kolfort—some scheme or other against the Prin-
