He saw it was her wish to draw him into some retired corner and continue the conversation of the train; but this was not permitted her, for just then the debonair young lieutenant of the Czar’s Guards who had been tripping airily among the perfumed heights of tenor arias from the Italian opera, left the piano, and there arose a demand that she should sing. In rebuke to these sweet soulless intricacies, so it seemed to Drexel, she sang several of the folk songs of little Russia--simple, plaintive airs that were the voice of the people’s heart speaking its joys and woes and aspirations--and sang them in a rich and soft contralto charged with feeling. Drexel, stirred by her voice, felt his heart pulsing in warm sympathy with the beat of the song. The applauding guests thought she was moved by mere artistic sentiment. He knew better, and when he had a moment alone with her after she had finished, he told her how truly splendid had been her singing. She caught the sympathy in his voice and flashed at him a quick, bright look. “We’ll have you yet!” she whispered. Prince Berloff, coming up, reminded her that he had promised to show her some new etchings that he had shown the other guests in the afternoon while she had been lying down, and he led her off to the library. Could Drexel have only followed her! The countess bestowed herself in a corner of a great leather divan, leaning back in luxurious grace, her cheek in one finely modeled hand. The prince closed the door and drew up a chair in front of her. There was controlled eagerness in his pale face. “Well?” he asked in his low voice. Triumph gleamed through the fringe of her half-closed eyes, but her manner was languorously reposeful. “Well, I think we have him!” “A-a-h!” breathed the prince. “You have definitely involved him in some plan?” “Not yet. I’m leading him gently toward one. But he’s ready. He said as much to-night.” “Good! And what plan?” “I thought the one we knew was uppermost in the revolutionists’ minds would be the best--the freeing of Borodin.” “You must use haste. Drexel is to be in Russia less than two weeks longer. When are you going to lead him definitely into the thing?” “That depends,” she answered. “On what?” “On you.” “On me?” “On the reply you make to a pair of requests.” “And what are they?” “When you arranged with me to undertake this matter, you merely ordered me to lead Mr. Drexel into some revolutionary plot. You did not tell me why you wanted him to be involved in a plot, and I did not ask. But I ask now.” The prince’s white brows drew together. “Countess, you are going too far!” But the menace of his looks did not even ripple the countess’s repose. “Then you refuse?” “Most emphatically!” “Well, anyhow, this first request was of minor importance,” she said easily. “And besides, for that matter, I know my question’s answer.” He gave a slight start, then his face was again a cold mask. “Indeed,” he said calmly. “How?”