"I had not thought that we should be alone again, Count Benderoff," she said, a little formally; and I hoped I could detect in this reception and in the light of her eyes when they fell upon me the sight of a personal feeling of pleasure that needed to be held firmly in check. I adopted a tone of formality that equalled her own.
"I had not forgotten your wish, Princess, but I have been compelled by grave circumstances to come to you thus. Have you heard any news? Your anxious looks suggest that you may know what I have to tell."
"I have heard nothing. Is there bad news?"
"I grieve to say it is of the worst."
"This time, at least, you are the bearer of it," she replied, smiling faintly. "And I can trust you to tell me frankly. What is it?
I told her plainly everything. First, the warning which the Russian officer, Captain Wolasky, had given me on the previous evening; and his strong advice that she should fly before it was too late. Then, in great detail, all that had passed between the Prince and myself that morning.
She was very pale and much agitated as my narrative proceeded; but she interrupted me scarcely once, and at the close sank back in her seat, and with her hands across her eyes remained buried in thought.
"It is hard news to hear," she said despondently. "You say it spells the ruin of everything."
"It is to the full as hard for me to tell as for you to hear," I answered gently. "But it is no moment to flinch from the facts, however ugly. I fear it means the ruin of everything." At my gloomy words she shuddered, and sat for some minutes silent in dismay.
