"I am a stranger in Sofia," said I, in excuse of my ignorance.
"Even strangers know of the staunch woman-friend of his Highness the Prince. I am the Countess Anna Bokara."
I knew her well enough by repute, and her presence in the house alone and defenceless was the more mystifying.
"Permit me to wish you a speedy recovery from your wound, Countess," and to cover the thoughts which her words started I raised my glass. She seemed almost to caress me with her eyes and voice as she replied:
"I drink to my newest friend, that rare thing in this distracted country, a man of honour, the Count Benderoff, of Radova." As she set her glass down she added: "My enemies have done me a splendid service, Count—they have brought me your friendship. They could not have made us a nobler or more timely gift. The Prince has need of such a man as you."
I bowed but did not answer.
"You are a stranger here, you say. May I ask your purpose in coming?"
"I am in search of a career."
"I can promise you that," she cried swiftly, with manifest pleasure. "I can promise you that certainly, if you will serve his Highness as bravely as you have served me to-night. You must not think, because you see me here, seemingly alone and helpless, that I have lost my influence and power in the country. My enemies have done this—Russia through the vile agents she sends here to wound this distracted country to the death—suborning all that is honourable, debasing all that is pure, undermining all that is patriotic, lying,
