If I say a word in the right quarter you would
never leave Russia alive. I have merely to say to Catrina Lanovitch that
it was you who banished her father for your own gain. I have merely to
hand your name in to certain of the Charity League party, and even your
husband could not save you."
He had gradually approached her, and uttered the last words face to
face, his eyes close to hers. She held her head up--erect, defiant
still.
"So you see, madame," he said, "you belong to me."
She smiled.
"Hand and foot," he added. "But I am soft-hearted."
He shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
"What will you?" he said, looking out of the window. "I love you."
"Nonsense!"
He turned slowly round.
"What?"
"Nonsense!" repeated Etta. "You love power; you are a bully. You love to
please your own vanity by thinking that you have me in your power. I am
not afraid of you."
De Chauxville leaned gracefully against the window. He still held his
rifle.
"Reflect a little," he said, with his cold smile. "It would appear that
you do not quite realize the situation. Women rarely realize situations
in time. Our friend--your husband--has many of the English
idiosyncrasies. He has all the narrow-minded notions of honor which
obtain in that country. Added to this, I suspect him of possessing a
truly Slavonic fire which he keeps under.
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