"It is necessary sometimes, madame," he answered, amused. "Quite necessary, I assure you." At that moment a quietly-dressed elderly lady of pronounced Teutonic type and matronly proportions was struggling to pass us, but, recognised by Paul, was introduced to Ella. It was a woman with whom I was well acquainted, the Countess Landsfeldt, wife of the German Ambassador. She at once joined our little group, and commenced to chat with a strong accent. "We have not met, madame, for quite an age--three months, is it?" Paul exclaimed presently. "You have been away, I believe." "Ah! yes. For a month I was in Berlin, and afterwards, just as I was returning to London, my youngest daughter fell ill, and I was compelled to spend two months with her in Ehrenburg, our schloss on the Mosel." "The Ehrenburg!" exclaimed Ella, enthusiastically. "I know it quite well. How romantic and charming it looks perched high up upon its solitary rock. My mother and I drove from Brodenbach along the valley to see it last year." "Ah, you did not enter?" "No," my wife answered, smiling. "I had not then the honour of madame's acquaintance." "Inside, we are back in mediaeval days, with dungeons, torture-chambers, and all sorts of relics of barbarism; while the legends connected with the place are legion. Some day, if you are interested in ancient castles, you and your husband must visit me in Germany." "It is the most carefully preserved stronghold of the middle ages extant," Paul observed. "Ah, yes," replied the Countess, "but it is gloomy and dull--ugh!" and, shrugging her shoulders, she pulled a little grimace. "I prefer Berlin--or even London." "You say even London, Countess," exclaimed Paul. "I quite agree. London is _triste_ after Vienna or St Petersburg. Is his Excellency with you this evening?" "No. My husband is--oh, so busy. We only returned from Lord Maybury's this morning, and dispatches accumulate so fast in his absence." "He has received another decoration from the Emperor, I hear," Verblioudovitch observed. "Yes, the Iron Cross," replied the Countess, looking at him sharply. Then she added quickly,-- "But who told you? He only received His Majesty's intimation three days ago, and I thought for the present it was a profound secret." Upon Paul's face there spread that imperturbable smile that he could assume at will, as he answered,-- "It is the object of a diplomatist to ascertain the nature of all secrets." The Countess gave vent to a forced laugh as she exclaimed, "My husband, I think, fully deserved the honour." "Certainly, madame," replied the Tzar's official, courteously, his hands clasped behind his back. "The completion of the secret convention with England was, I admit, a master-stroke, and even though directed against us, the rapidity and cleverness with which it was effected were worthy of reward." And he smiled at her mysteriously.