“I want to be talked about?” said he, taking up her words with a feeling that he had been somewhat hard hit by them. “Well, and what if I do? Call it vanity, if you like. The poet will style it fame; the soldier glory; the statesman ambition. As to this idol of yours, this unclean thing called a Czar, the craven who shrank from punishing his father’s assassins, who let a printed lie go forth to the world, who continued his father’s war, and then made peace as soon as he heard the British fleet was coming—whether he be worthy of your fiery defence is a question I shall leave to the judgment of history.” At the word “unclean,” the scarlet glow of anger on Pauline’s face gave way to a deathly white. Wilfrid could see that her teeth were set, and that she breathed hard. Her look of anguish was so keen that he almost regretted his use of the word. And yet, was it not applicable? She was silent for a few moments, and when she spoke it was in a humbler key. “The one desire of my life, as you know, is to see the Bourbons restored to the throne of France. Alexander has advanced a step in this direction by breaking with the First Consul, Napoleon; his next will be to declare war against him. If, then, Alexander should fall by your hand, and such accident _might_ happen, that barbarian Constantine would be Czar, and then, good-bye to my bright hopes, for he favours Bonaparte. No, Lord Courtenay, you shall not imperil my plans. For this seizure of your person I have the sanction of the British Government——” “What?” cried Wilfrid incredulously. “That is, if Lord St. Helens be the representative of the British Government, as I suppose he is. I had a ten-minutes’ interview with him early this morning, and he approved this plan of mine.” “He did, did he?” muttered Wilfrid, a little confounded to find that Pauline was acting with a sort of quasi-legality. “And pray, how long do you propose to detain me here?” She hesitated; and then, adopting a gentler tone, she said, with a persuasive look:— “Promise me—promise that you will give up all thoughts of this duel, and you are free now.” “Such promise I will never give.” “Then here you will remain,” she said firmly, “till you be of a better mind.” “That answer cancels all friendship between us. Baroness, I have said my last word to you.” With a look that cut her to the heart, he turned his back upon her; and then, seized with the sudden hope of being able to force his way from the castle, he made quickly for the door by which he had entered, only to find that it had been locked on the outside by Beauvais. He turned back just in time to see Pauline disappear through the only remaining door. Ere he could cross the room she had closed this door and turned the key in the lock.