Amid a scene of wild excitement Paul moved towards the choir, his long cloak hanging gracefully from his shoulders, his sabre clanking heavily upon the cathedral pavement. Barbara, her heart beating wildly, her lips parted in a smile, half of pride, half of fear, watched him, knowing for what purpose he was advancing. Paul reached the edge of the choir, and picking up the duke's gauntlet, which had lain untouched for an hour, he tossed it disdainfully against its owner's face. "Duke of Bora, I will do battle with you to the death on behalf of the princess." "One moment, young sir," said Polonaski. "You cannot nominate yourself. The appointment rests with the lady. Do you accept this man as your champion?" he added, turning to Barbara. "Oh, no, no!" cried Barbara. "This must not be." A minute previously she had been longing to triumph over the Czar; now the princess was lost in the woman. She would rather resign her throne than put Paul's life to such terrible hazard. The anguish pictured on her face, her clasped hands, her form bent forward, attested the state of her feelings towards the handsome young Englishman. There was not one person in the cathedral ignorant of the cause of her emotion. Her love for Paul, and the reason of his going away, were matters well known to all the Czernovese. His sudden return at this crisis imparted an additional interest to a tableau already thrilling. "By heaven, your Highness must accept him," whispered Zabern in her ear. "I have tested his swordsmanship in the _salle d'armes_ with a view to this very event, and I know that the duke has no chance against him." Barbara remained silent. A struggle was taking place in her mind. The high spirit that had sustained her during the terrible strain of the last twenty-four hours was beginning to give way. Her crown had never brought her anything but sorrow. Why not resign it, and depart with Paul to his own Kentish home, that home which he had so often described to her,--a fair castellated hall shaded with beech-trees beside a cool lake! Far happier the life of an English lady than that of a princess ruling over a semi-barbarous people. Polonaski had marked Zabern's triumphant smile at the appearance of Paul, and that smile made him somewhat uneasy, implying as it did a firm belief in Paul's ability to overcome the duke. "Was not Captain Woodville banished from Czernova?" he asked; "because if so he has no right to be on Czernovese ground." "Captain Woodville retired from Czernova of his own free will," replied Zabern. "The cabinet signed no decree of banishment against him." Barbara was still wavering in mind. "Stick to your throne," growled Zabern. "To hold it as a vassal of the Czar!" she murmured faintly.