But men count for nothing in such matters, for men can even hold
admiration for a victorious enemy--here there was a woman to deal with.
While the gallants who had clustered around the Countess were collecting
my truant pearls, she walked across and glared into my face with eyes
that blazed with fury.
In passion she tore the mask from her face, and so, because she was
pleased to confess herself, I accepted the challenge and removed mine.
She forgot her civilization, her breeding, her position, everything, and
dropped back into the barbarous language of her ancestors.
"If I only had you in Russia!" she gasped, her lips almost touching my
ear. "I'd have you flogged for this; I'd have your lying tongue torn
out, and those shoulders you're so proud of branded 'Spy,' God! If I had
you in Russia!"
"And yet," I murmured, "methinks these charms of Russia must be enjoyed
by you alone, and swiftly, too, for surely--his Excellency will resign
at once."
"God!" she cried, "if I had you in Russia!"
I turned away, but stole a backward glance at her as she stood, her
whole body trembling, her fingers clutching the balustrade to support
her quivering figure, and then he came forward and handed me my pearls.
It was the third time he had said it, and there was a crescendo of
meaning in the phrase he whispered:
"You are a clever little devil!"