"I will do any thing you wish," she went on, and in her humility she was very dangerous. "I deceived you, I know. But I sold the Charity League before I knew that you--that you thought of me. When I married you I didn't love you. I admit that. But Paul--oh, Paul, if you were not so good you would understand." Perhaps he did understand; for there was that in her eyes that made her meaning clear. He was silent; standing before her in his great strength, his marvellous and cruel self-restraint. "You will not forgive me?" For a moment she leaned forward, peering into his face. He seemed to be reflecting. "Yes," he said at length, "I forgive you. But if I cared for you, forgiveness would be impossible." He went slowly toward the door. Etta looked round the room with drawn eyes; their room--the room he had fitted up for his bride with the lavishness of a great wealth and a great love. He paused, with his hand on the door. "And," she said, with fiery cheeks, "does your forgiveness date from to-night?" "Yes!" He opened the door. "Good-night!" he said, and went out. CHAPTER XL STÉPAN RETURNS At daybreak the next morning Karl Steinmetz was awakened by the familiar cry of the wolf beneath his window. He rose and dressed hastily. The eastern sky was faintly pink; a rosy twilight moved among the pines. He went down stairs and opened the little door at the back of the castle. It was, of course, the starosta, shivering and bleached in the chilly dawn. "They have watched my cottage, Excellency, all night. It was only now that I could get away. There are two strange sleighs outside Domensky's hut. There are marks of many sleighs that have been and gone. Excellency, it is unsafe for any one to venture outside the castle to-day. You must send to Tver for the soldiers." "The prince refuses to do that." "But why, Excellency? We shall be killed!" "You do not know the effect of platoon firing on a closely packed mob, starost. The prince does," replied Steinmetz, with his grim smile. They spoke together in hushed voices for half an hour, while the daylight crept up the eastern sky. Then the starosta stole away among the still larches, like the wolf whose cry he imitated so perfectly. Steinmetz closed the door and went upstairs to his own room, his face grave and thoughtful, his tread heavy with the weight of anxiety. The day passed as such days do. Etta was not the woman to plead a conventional headache and remain hidden. She came down to breakfast, and during that meal was boldly conversational. "She has spirit," reflected Karl Steinmetz behind his quiet gray eyes. He admired her for it, and helped her. He threw back the ball of conversation with imperturbable good humor. They were completely shut in. No news from the outer world penetrated to the little party besieged within their own stone walls. Maggie, fearless and innocent, announced her intention of snow-shoeing, but was dissuaded therefrom by Steinmetz with covert warnings.