and that Sacha Talke was killed in a mysterious duel abroad. But I happen to know that it was Count Piloff who killed him."
I looked at my companion, expecting to see him rise in anger and tell this woman that her statement was false. He sat still, showing no emotion except in the deathly paleness of his face, and a strange glitter in his eyes, which were fixed upon mine.
The group walked on. I spoke almost fiercely,—
"Have n't you enough courage to tell that person what you think of her? Are you afraid of a woman?"
The half scornful smile on his lips gave place to one so gentle, the hard gleam in his eyes softened to such a tender look, that I hardly knew him. He said in a low voice,—
"Is it possible that you do not believe it?"
"Believe it?" I repeated. "Do you suppose I think so badly of you as that?"
He sighed, and his eyes dropped.
"After all," he said slowly, "what difference does it make whether you feel a shade or two more or less of contempt for me?"
He reflected for a moment, and then looked at me.
"I should be a sorry rascal if all that she said were true; yet," with a sudden tightening of the breath, though his eyes never flinched from their steady gaze, "some of it is true."
Seeing that he waited for me, I responded calmly, "That does not surprise me. There is generally a foundation of truth in these stories. How much of this is true?"
