"Presumably so," replied Zabern.

"And to maintain the princess's throne and the Latin faith is a holy deed."

"Without doubt."

"Then let the holy deed take place on holy ground."

"My view of the matter."

"But if the shedding of blood should profane a church--"

"As the timid allege."

"Then is the place already profaned by the blood of Orloff."

"True."

"Therefore this being now common ground the duel can take place without occasion of profanation."

"Faustus, thou reasonest well. Gentlemen, we have heard the voice of the Church. _Fiat voluntas ecclesiae._ Let the combat take place here, and now."

"Good!" commented Paul, who had listened in silence to this dialogue.

"It cannot come too soon."

A remark echoed by the ferocious Bora, confident in his ability to overcome the other.

Paul now found his hands grasped by those of admiring ministers, all of whom were anxious that he should forget how near they had come to banishing him by public edict.

In the midst of their congratulations Paul was approached by a lady-in-waiting, who brought word that the princess desired to speak with him ere the duel should begin.

"Go to your dalliance," sneered Bora, who had overheard the message.

"It will be your last."

"If your grace will take counsel of an enemy," replied Paul, "you will seek the ministration of a priest, for you never needed it more."

There was something in Paul's quiet and confident manner, something far removed from boasting, that sent a momentary uneasiness to the hearts of both Bora and of his imperial patron, the Czar.

Paul followed his conductress to the sacristy, where he found Barbara attended by her ladies, who had divested her of her heavy coronation robes. The pure white of her silk dress was not whiter than her face at that moment.

At a sign from the princess the attendants withdrew, leaving her alone with Paul.

"What a pity," murmured one, "if so handsome a hero should die!"

Barbara rose to her feet, but so great was her emotion that she would have fallen, had not Paul caught her in his arms, where she reclined, clinging convulsively to him.

"Oh! Paul, Paul," she murmured, and for a long time she could do no more than repeat his name.

The sweetness and the pain at her heart! Was this a meeting or a parting? Her throne, her power, her wealth, her triumphs in the diplomacy and the Diet were all as nothing in comparison with her love of Paul. He was her dearest possession, and yet--and yet--this clasp of his arms might be the last! Within an hour his corpse might be carried out of the cathedral, and the voice of the Czar would proclaim her downfall, and the accession of Bora. And what would life be without Paul?

"Do not weep, Barbara," he cried, tenderly stroking her dark hair.

"This day shall prove the brightest of your life."

But Barbara failed to see how this could be. To her it would ever remain as the most wretched, for even if she should triumph over Czar and duke, that would not remove the reproach of illegitimacy publicly cast in her teeth. She shivered at the recollection. Of all the incidents which had happened that day, this--the imputed stain on her birth--had most wounded her pride. Would she ever be able to disprove the charge? But it was not the time to be thinking of this now.

"Oh! Paul," she murmured, "it is selfish, it is wrong of me to hazard your life in this barbarous fashion."

"It is too late to plead now," he answered gravely. "I have publicly accepted the honor--for an honor it is--of acting as the princess's champion, and not even Barbara herself shall dissuade me to withdraw."

"But are you certain, quite certain, that you will be victorious?"

"Try me," said Paul grimly.

"How can I let you do this?" she cried in an outburst of anguish. "I will resign my crown. We will go away together to some other land where happiness may be found. Say 'yes' to this. Oh, Paul, don't--_don't_ fight. If you should fall--"

"No fear of that, since your throne depends upon the issue."

"My throne!" repeated Barbara bitterly. "What pleasure can it give me now? The Czar has learned that our Charter is no more. He claims Czernova as part of his empire. If I should continue to rule I must rule merely as his va.s.sal. Consider the humiliations to which I shall be subjected. Is it worth while risking your life in order to preserve for me a gilded mockery of power?"

How could Paul smile at the prospect presented by her words? Yet he did, pleasantly and tenderly.

"Sweet princess!" he said, "for princess you are, and princess you shall remain, take courage." He turned her beautiful face upward to his own, and gazed into the depth of her dark eyes, on whose silken lashes the tear-drops glittered. "During my absence I have worked for the good of Czernova. I have splendid tidings for you. Fear no more the machinations of Russia. From this day forth you are firmly seated upon the throne."

The sudden and unaccountable joy that filled Barbara's heart at that moment almost effaced the thought of the coming duel.

"Oh, Paul, what--what do you mean?"

"That I have accomplished my mission. But ere explaining let me first dispose of the duke; otherwise when the great news which is now on its way reaches Slavowitz, he may seek to escape in the train of the Czar, which must not be, for Trevisa's death calls for atonement."

Though full of wonder, Barbara succeeded in repressing her curiosity, and said,--

"Paul, you do not wish me to be a witness of this duel? I mean," she added timidly, "if you think that--that--"

"That I shall fight with better success if you are looking on? No, Barbara, it is no sight for your gentle eyes. Remain here till it is over. And do not fear for me," he continued, kissing her tearful face, "I am more than a match for the duke. From boyhood upward to excel in sword-play has been my ambition. Rarely have I let a day pa.s.s without exercise. I can see now that Providence has been training my arm for this very event."

His words inspired Barbara with a momentary confidence.

"You will succeed, Paul. Heaven will help you, for you fight in a righteous cause. Oh, are you going? So soon? Why, we have but just met. Not yet--not yet. A minute longer--one more kiss--lest--lest--it should be--the last--O Paul--don't go--no--no--"

He kissed her tenderly, gently removed her clinging arms, and quitted the sacristy.

The Duke of Bora, who was sitting beside his great kinsman, the Czar, scowled as Paul made his appearance in the choir. The dullest imagination could picture the tender interview that had taken place in the sacristy. All knew that Paul had come to the combat with Barbara's kiss dewy on his lips.

"But for yon fellow," muttered Bora, "I might now be the consort of the princess."

"The fair lady loves power," replied the emperor. "She may yet consent when she sees the crown on your brow. See, the herald summons you. Now, Bora, play the man, and you are prince by the law of Czernova itself.

All Europe will be unable to dispute the legality of your t.i.tle."

The two duellists did not immediately take to the sword and engage.