The lady gave a whispered order in Italian to her gondolier, who came to a sudden stop, thus forcing the other boat to come much nearer before it, too, arrested its course. There a moonbeam caught the faces of the men as they leant forward to see what had occurred. One of them was Dmitry, and the other a younger man of the pure Kalmuck type whom Paul had never seen. "Vasili!" exclaimed the lady, in passionate surprise. "Vasili! and they have not told me!" She trembled all over, while her eyes blazed green flames of anger and excitement. "If it is unnecessary they shall feel the whip for this." Her cloak had fallen aside a little, disclosing a shimmer of purple garment and flashing emeralds. She looked barbaric, her raven brows knit. It might have been Cleopatra commanding the instant death of an offending slave. It made Paul's pulses bound, it seemed so of the picture and the night. All was a mad dream of exotic emotion, and this was just an extra note. But who was Vasili? And what did his presence portend? Something fateful at all events. The lady did not speak further, only by the quiver of her nostrils and the gleam in her eyes he knew how deeply she was stirred. Yes, one or the other would feel the whip, if they had been over-zealous in their duties! It seemed out of sheer defiance of some fate that she decided to go on into the lagoon when they passed San Georgio. It was growing late, and Paul's thoughts had turned to greater joys. He longed to clasp her in his arms, to hold her, and prove her his own. But she sat there, her small head held high, and her eyes fearless and proud--thus he did not dare to plead with her. But presently, when she perceived the servants were no longer following, her mood changed, the sweetness of the serpent of old Nile fell upon her, and all of love that can be expressed in whispered words and tender hand-clasps, she lavished upon Paul, after ordering the gondolier to hasten back to the palazzo. It seemed as if she, too, could not contain her impatience to be again in her lover's arms. "I will not question them to-night," she said when they arrived, and she saw Dmitry awaiting her on the steps. "To-night we will live and love at least, my Paul. Live and love in passionate bliss!" But she could not repress the flash of her eyes which appeared to annihilate the old servant. He fell on his knees with the murmured words of supplication: _"O Imperatorskoye!"_ And Paul guessed it meant Imperial Highness, and a great wonder grew in his mind. Their supper was laid in the loggia again, and under the windows the musicians still played and sang a gentle accompaniment to their sighs of love. But later still Paul learnt what fiercest passion meant, making other memories as moonlight unto sunlight--as water unto wine. CHAPTER XVI