This may be the last time we meet. I hope it is."
De Chauxville looked uneasy. His was a ready wit, and fear was the only
feeling that paralyzed it. Etta looked at him. Was his wit going to
desert him now when he most needed it? He had ridden boldly into the
lion's den. Such a proceeding requires a certain courage, but a higher
form of intrepidity is required to face the lion standing before the
exit.
De Chauxville looked at Steinmetz with shifty eyes. He was very like the
mask of the lynx in the smoking-room, even to the self-conscious,
deprecatory smile on the countenance of the forest sneak.
"Keep your temper," he said; "do not let us quarrel in the presence of a
lady."
"No; we will keep the quarrel till afterward."
Steinmetz turned to Etta.
"Princess," he said, "will you now, in my presence, forbid this man to
come to this or any other house of yours? Will you forbid him to address
himself either by speech or letter to you again?"
"You know I cannot do that," replied Etta.
"Why not?"
Etta made no answer.
"Because," replied De Chauxville for her, "the princess is too wise to
make an enemy of me. In that respect she is wiser than you. She knows
that I could send you and your prince to Siberia."
Steinmetz laughed.
"Nonsense!" he said. "Princess," he went on, "if you think that the fact
of De Chauxville numbering among his friends a few obscure police spies
gives him the right to persecute you, you are mistaken.
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