The count seemed deeply moved. He looked down at the hand, but made no motion to touch it. "Mademoiselle," he said in a strange, choked voice, "it is you who are good! You conquer me with your divine tenderness!" A spasm as of pain crossed his countenance. "I--I am not good, as the world knows that word. I am hard, ambitious, cruel." He continued, his face white and stern: "Power is to me the greatest thing in the world, greater than love--even my love for you--greater than life. For what is human life? It is cheaper than the dirt in the street. Why should we value it? For myself, it signifies nothing. When it obstructs my path, I set it aside--or crush it." She drew back from him half fearfully. A lock of dark hair had escaped, and fallen across her brow. It made her look singularly young and troubled. "Why do you say those wild things?" she faltered. He smiled, master of himself again, and took her hand. "You are afraid of me--Doris?" he whispered softly. She trembled at the word. Her white eyelids fluttered, and her colour came and went under his persistent gaze. "A--a little!" she confessed. It seemed to her that she could almost hear her heart beat. His personality was round about her like a spell. "Only a little!" the count laughed gaily. "I admit I am very much afraid of you!" The hand was still closely imprisoned. She disengaged it, and lifted her eyes bravely to him. "I believe that you are the most truthful man in the world," she said simply. "But I--I fear your truth. It terrifies me." "Yesterday," he replied, with a whimsical smile, "you hated me. I was all evil. To-day I am the most truthful man in the world. What shall I be to-morrow?" She held her head down and refused to meet his look. "I--I cannot tell," she whispered. "Nor shall I urge you," he replied gently. "Later, perhaps, when your father is safe---- But until then, may I ask a very great favour?" She nodded mutely. He drew off the ring. "Will you wear this? I have a fancy that upon your hand it will bring me good luck and ward off danger." He tried it upon one after another of her fingers. "Too large!" he murmured disappointedly. Doris smiled faintly. From about her throat, hidden in the lace of her gown, she pulled out a slender gold chain, from which a locket depended. "I will wear it here," she promised, "together with the picture of my father." She took the jewel from his hand, and undoing the clasp, threaded the ring upon the chain and restored all to their place. "That is better than I dared hope!" he said. He bent toward her. "And you will think of me sometimes?" "Every instant of the day," she responded fervently, "until I shall see my father." He laughed a little ruefully, and rose. "I suppose that must content me! And now I must be off. I will find your father. 'Trust Poltavo.'" "I do--completely." She gave him her hand. Her face was composed, almost cheerful. "Do you leave any commands?"