“Come, Count, you have had your revenge, and enjoyed it, no doubt. You had a right to it, I will confess, so let it pass. We are quits now. Why not start afresh? Purely as a matter of business, don’t you think you are very foolish to quarrel with me? You and I together could do anything we chose. What is the use of pitting our wits continually against each other? You know what I can do for you--you have no prospects otherwise. Let us blot out the last quarter of an hour. Why should not our compact remain in force? What do you say?” She laid her hand upon his arm, and behind her honeyed smile a passionate eagerness shone in her eyes and trembled upon her lips. Many men would have succumbed to the temptation of the woman and what she offered. Not so Cyril. “I can only repeat, madame, that I know of no compact.” She drew back from him and stood erect. “Then there is some other woman,” she said, absolute certainty in her voice. “Is it Ernestine?” “It is Ernestine.” “I wish you joy, then. Go!” She pointed again to the door, and he went out, conscious that she would have sold her soul for a weapon ready to her hand, and that if wishes could kill, neither Ernestine nor he would live much longer. In the excitement of the moment the Princess had ordered him out by the private door at the back of the boudoir, instead of that opening into the large drawing-room. As he entered the anteroom a female figure quitted it hastily by the opposite door, and the Scythian Captain Roburoff tried to look as if he had been alone for some hours. “Ah, Roburoff, you here?” said Cyril, nodding to him. “Simply on an errand for his Majesty, Count. I was the bearer of a letter to her Royal Highness.” “And you were tempering duty with pleasure when I came in?” The Scythian’s face darkened. “Do you--would you insult--pray consider, Count----” “My dear fellow, we were all young once, even ladies-in-waiting. I wish you an uninterrupted interview next time.” “All the same,” murmured Cyril, as he quitted the villa by the private door, leaving Captain Roburoff reassured, “I am much mistaken if the young lady was not Princess Lida, and not a _dame d’honneur_ at all. I fear there are further troubles in store for my poor friend the Princess; but after thrusting King Michael back upon the unhappy girl once already, I really can’t bring myself to spoil her plans a second time. I wonder how long they have been carrying on this affair?” CHAPTER IX. VERSIONS DIFFER. “Birnsdorf!” said the Princess.