"Yes," said Sabaroff, "I have the paper here ready to sign, and am only waiting for a telegram from St. Petersburg, which I have ordered to be brought to me here if it should happen to arrive before ten o'clock" ... "My husband will be so glad!" "Ah, 'my husband will be glad,'" repeated Sabaroff, in a half-mocking tone; "Mrs. Grantham, will _you_ be glad?--Dora," said he, warming as he proceeded, "do you not realise that what I am going to do is for your sake, and not for the man who has won the only woman I ever loved?" On hearing herself called by her Christian name, Dora was indignant. "General, once more I beg of you, I'm afraid you forget yourself." At this moment a servant entered the room. "A telegram for his Excellency," said he. Then he handed the telegram to the General, and retired after receiving Dora's order to bring tea. Sabaroff read the despatch to Dora: "Approved by Council of War. Final decision left to you. If you yourself approve, offer five hundred thousand roubles." Dora was standing at the fireplace, with one foot on the fender. Sabaroff, with the telegram in his hand, gave her a look which seemed to say: "When I said _powerful_, you see I was right." The servant brought the tea, which he placed on a table near Dora, and retired. Dora poured out two cups. "No milk, I think--a little rum and some lemon, _à la Russe_?" "Thank you," said Sabaroff. He cut himself a slice of lemon, helped himself to rum, and began to sip his tea. There was an unbroken silence for a couple of minutes. "You are not offended with me?" he resumed. "Ah, forgive me if I have called you by your beautiful first name, your sweet name of Dora, it is the only one I ever give you in my thoughts. Here is a pansy," he said, opening his pocket-book, "a flower that you dropped at Monte Carlo. There is no Mrs. Grantham for me; there is Dora, the name I cannot forget." "This man really loved me, then," said Dora to herself, "and loves me still perhaps." The thought displeased her, but it was not insulting. She thought of the pansies which had come regularly, year after year, on the anniversary of her marriage. Then, if he loved her still, she had everything to fear in this solitary tête-à-tête. She resolved to be more than ever on her guard. "But it is precisely my other name, General, that I would have you remember always," she said, with a calm smile. "If I thought of that one, I should not be here now; I should never come to this house," said Sabaroff. "I should not be now preparing to sign this paper, which is to enrich still further the man to whom you gave yourself, the man who already possesses the only thing I ever really craved. Shall I sign? Why should I?" said he, drawing from his pocket an envelope containing a blank contract. "What will be my thanks? What is to be my reward?" "Oh, General," said Dora, nervous but still smiling, "you are too good a patriot to need any incentive but the love of your country."