The Princess was silent, not knowing very well how to refute what she felt to be sophistry. No wonder Pauline was anxious to keep the matter a secret from Wilfrid! The knowledge of it might lead him, with his sense of honour, to decline any longer the hospitality of a hostess so questionable in her ways. “You may gain a crown, but you will not gain a hero,” said Marie with a touch of scorn. “A man who sets spies to watch his wife, and, before his suspicions are verified, promises to wed another woman, cannot be a very honourable character.” In her haste Marie forgot that the same charge was equally applicable to her hostess. Pauline felt the point of the rebuke. “I cannot imagine Lord Courtenay acting so,” continued Marie proudly. Nor could Pauline. Wilfrid was a man of very different stamp from Alexander. “How can you trust one that acts so dishonourably?” continued Marie. “What guarantee have you that Alexander will fulfil his promise?” “I have here his written pledge,” said Pauline, taking from her bosom that same scroll of parchment whose contents had evoked such emotion on the part of her father. This secret document would certainly have sent a thrill of amazement throughout the various European chancelleries, for it was nothing less than a statement to the effect that, in certain circumstances, the Empress Elizavetta should be divorced in favour of Pauline de Vaucluse! The document was signed, “Alexander Paulovitch, Czar and Autocrat.” That her friend Pauline might one day wear the diadem did not appear to afford much gratification to Marie. “You aspire to a crown,” she said. “Remember the fate of the Hungarian King Bela; his throne one day broke beneath him and its pieces crushed him in their fall—an apt illustration of the dangers attending a throne. It will bring you more sorrow than joy, especially if gained by the means you contemplate. Pauline, will you let me destroy this?” she continued, seeming as if about to tear the document in two. The Baroness hastily recovered the scroll. “Why,” asked Marie, “did you not destroy it on first receiving it?” “Why should I have done so?” “To show your trust in Alexander. What sort of love is it that needs a written guarantee? Pauline, you dare not burn it, and that very fact shows you have no real faith in him.” It was true, poignantly true. Though it had not appeared to her in this light before, Pauline began now to realise that the satisfaction arising from the possession of this document and the care with which she guarded it, were but so many proofs of distrust in Alexander. Nor could she help reflecting, at the moment, that she could have implicitly trusted Wilfrid’s spoken word.