“Now about yourself,” she said. “That is vastly more important.” Drexel at first tried to give a mere bald outline, but she impatiently demanded details of all that had happened since she had saved the day by walking forth to face the captain and the prince. So he told everything; how he had found Borodin’s whereabouts; how he had been trapped by the prince, and almost by the captain; of his flight with the countess and their pursuit; of his escape disguised as a peasant. And if since yesterday he had passed through dangers, the look with which she regarded him was payment a thousandfold. “Forgive me for what I said in this room a week ago,” she besought him. “Forgive you?” he cried. “Why, it was I----” “No, no!” she interrupted. “There is a side to you I then no more than glimpsed. I now see that it is really the larger side--perhaps it is really the whole man. Since I then said unjust things, I now want to say that you are generous, strong, resourceful, brave, resolute, true.” Her look might mean no more than warm and grateful comradeship--and yet, his heart leaped daringly. “I only hope that what you say is the truth,” he stammered joyously. “I do not know how much of a democrat you are--yet,” she continued; “but you are the type of man we need to help set Russia free. And that makes me regret that we must lose you.” “Lose me!” “Yes. For you must now leave us.” “Why?” “Prince Berloff has discovered that you are aiding us. He is after you--and not only for that, but plainly for some private reason. The only safe plan for you is to join your uncle’s family; he dare not touch you then. Never leave them.” “Never leave them? But I want to help you!” “Do you not see that he will have you watched? That if you come to us spies will follow you, and discover us?” “Yes.” He thought a moment. “I see, then, there is only one way.” “I thought you would see it.” “But not the way you mean. Not to go back. But to stay among you. To live the underground life. Won’t you let me?” “But the danger!” “Won’t you let me?” he repeated. “You mean it?” The blue eyes shone with an even brighter glow into the gray ones. “You do! Ah--perhaps you will help set Russia free!” It was on Drexel’s tongue to say it was not Russia--but he remembered the scene of a week ago in this room, and held back his words. “Now that you have learned where my brother is, we must begin the next step, to try to free him,” she went on. “Our Central Committee is ready to strike at once. We discuss plans to-night. I go from here to The White One.” “The White One!” exclaimed Drexel. “You know The White One?” “Well.” “I have heard no name more often since I’ve been in Russia. Might I ask what he is like?” “Forgive me--I cannot tell even you. Only the Central Committee and a very few others, persons who have been tested by fire and water, know who The White One is.”