“That you should dare, that any man should dare--to propose that a wife should work on a man’s past liking for her to serve her husband’s ends. Ahlberg, every day that I have lived with you has shown me new baseness in you.” This was not the first time Volkonsky had heard this--but it was none the less unpleasant. Also, he rather dreaded Madame Volkonsky’s occasional outbursts of temper--and he had had enough for one night. “It is no time for us to quarrel--and particularly do not call me Ahlberg. My name is now legally Volkonsky, and I would wish to forget it ever was anything else. We should better design how to keep this Pembroke at bay. I am sure,” continued Volkonsky plaintively, “I have never sought to injure him. Why should he try to ruin me for a little scene at a card table that occurred five years ago? I wonder if that ferocious Cave will turn up soon?” Madame Volkonsky turned and left him in disgust. In spite of her cosmopolitan education, and all her associations, there was born with her an admiration for Anglo-Saxon pluck which made her despise Volkonsky methods. The idea of scheming and designing to placate a man who had caught him cheating at cards filled her with infinite contempt. In the course of the next few days, Madame Volkonsky was deeply exercised over the influence that Pembroke would have upon her future. She had talked their affairs over often with her husband in those few days. He had not failed to convey to her the rather exaggerated impression that he had received from Ryleief, as to Pembroke’s power to harm. One afternoon, when Volkonsky and his wife were driving in their victoria, they passed the Secretary of State’s carriage drawn up to the sidewalk. Pembroke was about to step into it. The Secretary himself, a handsome, elderly man, was leaning forward to greet him, as Pembroke placed his foot on the step. Madame Volkonsky looked at her husband, who looked blankly back in return. The Secretary’s carriage whirled around, and both gentlemen bowed--the Secretary to both the Minister and his wife, Pembroke pointedly to Madame Volkonsky. Volkonsky turned a little pale as they drove off. “I wonder if the Secretary will ever speak to us again,” said Madame Volkonsky, half maliciously.