"May one call it an affaire de coeur?" asked Vassili, with his grim
smile.
"Certainly. Are not all private affairs such, one way or the other?"
"And you want a passport?"
"Yes--a special one."
"I will see what I can do."
"Thank you."
Vassili emptied his glass, drew in his feet, and glanced at the clock.
"But that is not all I want," said De Chauxville.
"So I perceive."
"I want you to tell me what you know of Prince Pavlo Alexis."
"Of Tver?"
"Of Tver. What you know from your point of view, you understand, my dear
Vassili. Nothing political, nothing incriminating, nothing official. I
only want a few social details."
Again the odd smile fell over the dignified face.
"In case," said Vassili, rather slowly, "I should only impart to you
stale news and valueless details with which you are already acquainted,
I must ask you to tell me first what you know--from your point of view."
"Certainly," answered De Chauxville, with engaging frankness. "The man I
know slightly is the sort of thing that Eton and Oxford turn out by the
dozen. Well dressed, athletic, silent, a thorough gentleman--et voila
tout."
The face of Vassili expressed something remarkably like disbelief.
"Ye--es," he said slowly.
"And you?" suggested De Chauxville.
"You leave too much to my imagination," said Vassili.
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