“Speak on, Vera,” she said gently. “Nothing that you may say can alarm me now.” Vera hesitated, and then, taking courage from her mistress’s manner, said:— “My lady, the Czar is in the castle!” To Vera’s surprise the Baroness did not faint. True, she gave a great start, but grew calm again in a moment. “Is this an answer to my prayer?” she murmured to herself. “An invitation from heaven to speak the truth and fear not?” Aloud she said, “What brings him here? Does he suspect that——?” “I think not, my lady. He is taking a quiet sail on the Neva in his gondola with his equerries, Princes Ouvaroff and Volkonski, and has pulled up off Runö for the purpose of paying his _devoir_ to the Baroness. He is in the entrance hall awaiting my lady.” “Where is Lord Courtenay—and—and—?” It was with a ghastly smile that Vera replied— “Lord Courtenay is by the lake making love to the Czarina!” CHAPTER XXIX WOOING A CZARINA Wilfrid and his Princess occupied their favourite seat by the Fairies’ Mirror. Marie was musing upon her kinsfolk—she supposed she had such—and, with a mind dominated by her love for Wilfrid, had come to the conclusion that should they now appear with intent to restore her to her former life she would be disposed to resist their action. Her life at Runö had been so happy that she felt that any change must be for the worse. “You saw me in my old life,” she remarked. “Tell me, did I seem very happy in it?” “Truth compels me to say you did not.” “How did I appear?” “You looked like—like—well, like the moonlight, beautiful, but sad.” “And now——?” “Now I may liken you to—to the sunshine.” “Radiant and happy?” smiled she. “Yes, I feel so. The difference must be due to changed conditions,” she continued, “and I am resolved not to return to the old state. What I lose by this resolve, I do not know; therefore, I do not grieve. I—heaven forgive me, if my act be a wrong one!—but I am bent on separating myself entirely from the past.” Prompted by a sudden thought, she rose to her feet. “Which way does St. Petersburg lie?” Wilfrid pointed to the east. “St. Petersburg! city that was once my home, you are my home no more.” And she flung out her arms as if casting something from her. “Friends and relatives, if such there be to me, you are discarded.” She repeated her action. “My old life, farewell! I turn my back upon you.” Suiting the action to the word, she turned upon her heel and stood facing the west. Wilfrid being an artist could not help admiring the curves of her graceful figure. Her hat had fallen off and some golden rays glancing obliquely through her hair seemed to illumine it as with an aureole. Wilfrid saw in this last attitude a happy augury for his hopes; she was facing the west, and the west was the direction of his home.