And suddenly the idea of Corsini occurred to her mind. She knew, with the intuitive instinct of a woman, that the young musician had fallen deeply in love with her, that if for certain reasons he would never go so far as to confess his love, she would ever find in him a true and devoted friend.

When she had sent that letter to his hotel to make sure that he had been safely brought back from Pavlovsk, he had forwarded her the piece of music she had asked for, as an excuse for writing to him.

After the first few formal lines of his answering note, he had written some strange words--words which evidently conveyed a deeper meaning than appeared on the surface. She remembered them perfectly.

"I cannot express to you in grateful enough language my thanks for all you have done for me. Later on, perhaps, I may have the opportunity of rendering them personally."

Grateful thanks for all she had done for him! There was only one service she had rendered him which could call for such warm expressions. But had he been able to connect her with that? Had he been able to reason it out in his own mind that Zouroff was the man who desired his removal? Or had he learned it all from Beilski?

She could not be sure. She had fenced as well as she could with Beilski, but the fact that that carriage had been drawn up within a few yards of the Palace certainly supported the idea that the Prince was the perpetrator of the outrage. Of course, she knew nothing of the General's second interview with Katerina; the maid had thought it wiser to keep that to herself. Neither did she know of the other interview with Peter the valet.

Zouroff had gone out, leaving word that he would not be home till late at night, very shortly after that stormy scene between the pair. The coast was clear. She would send round a note to Corsini asking him to come and see her for a few moments. Her maid would be waiting for him and would at once conduct him to her boudoir.

She would then endeavour to find out how much he knew; and if he had discovered the absolute truth, then she would seek his counsel and advice.

Corsini went to the Palace at once, much as he disliked entering the house of which the hateful and treacherous Prince was master.

He could see that the young Princess was very agitated as she greeted him.

"It is very kind of you to come so quickly, Signor. What I really wanted to see you about was this. In that letter you wrote me when you sent me that piece of music I asked for, you made use of certain expressions which I could not quite understand. You spoke of my having done you some service for which you wished to express your thanks."

The Italian looked at her steadily and intently, but in that deep gaze there was a very tender expression.

"Can you yourself recall no service that you have rendered me, Princess?"

So he knew. Of course, if he had not guessed of his own volition, Beilski would have told him that she had sent that letter of warning.

"Ah, I see you have found out," she faltered. "Well, on the spur of the moment I did my best, and I am glad that the result was so successful."

"I shall ever remember it with the deepest feelings of grat.i.tude,"

said the young musician fervently. "It could have been no light matter for you to act as you did, to run the risk of being detected."

There was now no further need of fencing on either side. "Signor, since there is now such a frank understanding between us, I want to ask your advice on a matter that is troubling me very much."

In tones of unmistakable sincerity he a.s.sured her that his services were whole-heartedly at her disposal.

"My mother, alas! cannot help me. She is so seriously ill with diphtheria that we are forbidden to go to her room; only the doctor and the nurse are allowed there."

Corsini expressed his deep regret at the Princess's severe indisposition. Nada resumed, in her soft, musical voice:

"This morning my brother and I had a serious quarrel." A vivid blush spread over her charming face as she recalled how the quarrel had begun with his taunting her with her preference for the man whom he called "a strolling player."

"We have had many quarrels in our time," she explained. "He is violent and overbearing, and breaks in the most ungovernable rages. At such times, I think, he goes actually mad for the moment. This particular quarrel, however, has left a deeper impression than most. He has threatened to lock me up in a gloomy old Castle in the Caucasus, as a punishment for my venturing to incur his displeasure."

"And is there any valid, or sufficiently apparent, reason for his displeasure?" asked Corsini. "Or perhaps I am indiscreet in putting that question."

"Oh, none at all," replied the Princess, with a return of that vivid blush; "mere trifles that a less violent man would smile at. He has used this threat once or twice before, but to-day he spoke as if he meant it."

Corsini thought deeply before he answered. Had Zouroff actually discovered the part she had played in his rescue, and was this his revenge?

"My advice, Princess, is to leave the Palace, and either seek shelter with some relatives or claim the protection of Golitzine and Beilski; if necessary of the Emperor himself. The Prince, you know doubtless, is not a favourite at Court."

"I know," said Nada quickly. "But think of the awful scandal when all this is blazoned forth. For my poor mother's sake I want to avoid that."

The Italian spoke very gravely. "The scandal will, of course, be regrettable. But compared with your own safety, I should not give it a moment's consideration."

He stood up, and his calm left him as he thought of the danger she ran with this brutal brother, who seemed capable of any villainy.

"You asked for my advice, Princess. I have given it and repeat it.

Leave this house at once and acquaint Beilski with all you have told me."

"You mean leave it now--to-day?" she faltered. "And my poor mother lying so ill upstairs."

"That, of course, from what I know and can guess of the Prince would provide him with an excellent reason for carrying out his plans as quickly as possible," observed Corsini bitterly.

The poor young Princess seemed overwhelmed by the position. She felt Corsini's advice was sound, and yet she shrank from taking such a decided step. The Prince had used a similar threat before, and nothing had come of it.

"I think I will wait till I see him again to-morrow," she said presently. "I shall know by his mood if he has forgotten the incident.

Nothing will occur to-day. He has gone out, and left word that he will not be home till late to-night."

Yes, he would be late home to-night; Corsini knew that for certain. He still persisted, however, in his point.

"Delays are dangerous, Princess. I will help you any way you like. And it will be wise to take advantage of his long absence to make your escape. Tell me your destination, and I will myself bring round a carriage to some quiet entrance where you can slip out un.o.bserved. I have not told you that I go about with a bodyguard with which the General furnished me. The carriage shall be told to go at a walking pace. I and my attendants will keep it in sight till you are safely at your destination."

She thanked him warmly, but still persisted that she would prefer to wait till to-morrow. If she changed her mind before the day was out, she would slip out with her maid and take a pa.s.sing conveyance.

Corsini took her hand and held it for a little time in his, while he gazed earnestly into her troubled eyes, from which she could with difficulty keep back the tears.

"My heart bleeds for you, dear lady. I wish I could convince you, and I hate to leave you here. Will you let me know to-morrow to what course of action you have made up your mind?"

She promised that she would, and the young man left her with feelings of dire foreboding. Please Heaven, this night's work would turn out so well that very shortly Zouroff would be rendered harmless and impotent. To let him loose on the world was like letting a wild and savage beast out of its cage.

The Prince did return to the Palace about the middle of the afternoon.

Was his message, that he would not be home till late at night, simply a blind to lull his sister into a false sense of security? He did not go near her; he went up to his own apartments by a private staircase, only used by himself.

He summoned his valet, Peter, and gave him some very minute instructions. Peter, knowing what was in store for his truculent master, would have liked to offer a little sensible advice, to dissuade him from the course he was bent on pursuing.

But the habits of long obedience, the fear that if he opposed him in the smallest detail he might draw suspicion upon himself, weighed heavily on him. Reluctantly he agreed to obey Zouroff's orders. Later on, when Zouroff was caged himself, he might be able to undo the mischief he had promised to abet.

The Prince stole out of the Palace as silently as he had entered it.

n.o.body but Peter and another servant, as much in his confidence as the valet himself, knew that he had been there.

It was a very busy day with him. A few more hours should see the end of all this plotting and scheming, should see his well-laid plans mature. The thought of vengeance, and a sense of coming triumph, induced in him a certain exultation which expressed itself in his resolute glance, his a.s.sured bearing. He made his way on foot to the villa of Madame Quero. He had made up his mind to have a little reckoning with her, in order to wind up his final accounts.

The beautiful singer received him graciously. A woman of capricious moods, she had, for a brief s.p.a.ce, admitted to herself that she had not treated him quite fairly, had been found lacking in the spirit of true comradeship. After all, Zouroff had loved her in his rough, masterful way, and he had always been generous.

She had played him false in this respect, that she had allowed herself to be attracted by the handsome young Italian, to the extent of thwarting the Prince's plans in regard to him. And it was to no purpose. Corsini was in love with the Princess Nada, no doubt a hopeless pa.s.sion on his part. But he would never give a thought to her save in the way of friendship. And that was the last thing that the pa.s.sionate heart of the Spanish woman desired.

When, therefore, Zouroff entered her boudoir, in apparently one of his best moods, she felt some of his old attraction for her returning. She little knew what deep anger against her was burning in his heart.