Regardless of what court officials might think, she would send an equerry this same day to the Hôtel de Varsovie with a message to the effect that the Princess of Czernova was desirous of an interview with Captain Paul Woodville. "If it be sweet to learn that the dear friends whom we have long thought dead are alive, how bitter it must be to lose them again, ere we can have the opportunity of seeing them!" "What do you mean?" Barbara did not speak these words. The question was put by the eager, fearful look of her eyes. "It seems that the duke and Captain Woodville--I crave your Highness's pardon, Captain Woodville and the duke--met by chance on the balcony of the Hôtel de Varsovie. A sapphire seal worn by the Englishman attracted the notice of the duke, inasmuch as he recognized it as a former gift of his to the Princess Natalie. The Englishman refused to state how he came by its possession, with the result that there is to be a duel over the matter." "Mother of God!" But for her dark arched eyebrows and dusky glowing eyes, the princess's face might have been taken for a piece of white sculpture. "It is to be no mock contest. They fight with sabres and to the death." "They shall not fight," gasped Barbara, finding her voice at last. "I shall send a troop to the Ducal Palace to arrest Bora--now--at once." "Too late! princess," answered Ravenna in a mocking voice. "They fight this very day, within an hour from now. The combatants are already on their way to the rendezvous in the Red Forest. The swiftest horse of the Ukraine could not reach the spot in time for you to stay the duel. And granting that you should arrive in time you would be powerless; for, in order to avoid breaking the Czernovese law, Ostrova, the duke's second, has fixed the place of combat on the Russian side of the frontier, where your authority does not extend." White as the princess's face was it grew whiter still as Ravenna proceeded in a fierce exultant tone,-- "You know the duke's reputation as a _beau sabreur_. Thirty duels, and never a wound has he received in any one of them; that is his record. In the Czernovese army are twenty thousand men, not one of whom, unless he wish for death, dares face the duke's deadly blade. You yourself have witnessed his feats in the _salle d'armes_; you have seen him disarm in swift succession the best fencers among your officers.--Zabern, Dorislas, Miroslav! Who can stand before the duke?" He paused for a moment, and then, pointing to the sun shimmering through the leaves of the linden-trees, he added,-- "Princess, ere that golden orb has set, your English hero will be lying dead upon the turf, slain by the hand of the man whom you would make your husband." Barbara heard no more. With a cry of "O Paul, Paul,"--a cry in which love and grief were intermingled,--she slid from her seat, and lay as one dead at the feet of the cardinal. CHAPTER V ON THE RUSSIAN FRONTIER