“You are trying to steal a husband from his wife! You would put an innocent woman away in order to gratify your ambition! Oh, Pauline!” There was on Marie’s face a look that went directly to Pauline’s heart. “Listen, Marie, and see whether there be not some justification for me. It is some months ago since I first guessed Alexander’s feelings towards me. Knowing the love of a wedded Czar to be dishonour I avoided all places where I was likely to meet him. But one night, quite by accident, we met at a masquerade. No, not the Sumaroff fête; this was one that took place a few days before Paul’s death.—Before I had seen Lord Courtenay,” she murmured to herself.—“He came upon me when I was alone; he held my hands in his, and asked why I had of late avoided him. Then all in a moment he uttered a flow of wild passionate words that—that—well, I will not deny it, they were sweet to me. But, remembering from whom they came, I strove to put them aside. ‘Your love must be given to Elizavetta,’ I murmured, ‘and to her only.’ Ah! if you could have seen his look of sorrow. ‘Elizavetta,’ he answered, ‘has already taken to herself a lover.’ If this be true, if the Czarina be faithless to her husband, is he justified in retaining her as his wife?” “You are dealing in ‘ifs,’” replied Marie. “Have you any proof that the Czarina is false?” “The Empress has been under espionage for some time; her conduct is very equivocal. When she has given clear proof of guilt her divorce will come.” “In other words you and Alexander are waiting for her to take the irrevocable step?” “Something of the sort.” “And will she?” “I think so.” “And you will be pleased when it is taken?” Pauline was silent. “She is gliding on towards wrong, and you are letting her! You can stop her by a word of warning, and yet will not! Pauline!” Marie could not have spoken with more touching earnestness had she been pleading her own cause. Involuntarily Pauline turned from the look of disapproval in those grave, innocent eyes. “If the Czarina,” said Pauline—and none knew better than she the sophistical character of the self-justification she was now attempting, “if the Czarina knew that a hundred eyes were secretly on the watch for her fall, she would of necessity be virtuous. But why should she, more than other women exposed to similar temptation, be put on her guard? Respect for her fair name, the memory of her altar-vows, the imperial diadem itself, should each be a sermon to her. To warn her would be to put her into a state of enforced virtue. Why should Alexander retain a wife willing to go wrong but kept in the right only by the fear of discovery? No! let her be tried by the fire of temptation. She must fulfil her destiny, as I must fulfil mine.”