If there is a God in heaven, and he hears our prayers, they ought not
to be," she replied curtly.

"She looked happy enough in Petersburg," said the Frenchman, who never
told the truth for its own sake. Whenever he thought that Catrina's
hatred needed stimulation he mentioned Etta's name.

"There are other questions in my mind," he went on, "some of which you
can answer, mademoiselle, if you care to."

Catrina's face expressed no great willingness to oblige.

"The Charity League," said De Chauxville, looking at her keenly; "I have
always had a feeling of curiosity respecting it. Was, for instance, our
friend the Prince Pavlo implicated in that unfortunate affair?"

Catrina flushed suddenly. She did not take her eyes from the ponies. She
was conscious of the unwonted color in her cheeks, which was slowly
dying away beneath her companion's relentless gaze.

"You need not trouble to reply, mademoiselle," said De Chauxville, with
his dark smile; "I am answered."

Catrina pulled the ponies up with a jerk, and proceeded to turn their
willing heads toward home. She was alarmed and disturbed. Nothing seemed
to be safe from the curiosity of this man, no secret secure, no
prevarication of the slightest avail.

"There are other questions in my mind," said De Chauxville quietly, "but
not now. Mademoiselle is no doubt tired."

He leaned back, and when at length he spoke it was to give utterance to
the trite commonplace of which he made a conversational study.

CHAPTER XXVIII

IN THE CASTLE OF THORS

A week later Catrina, watching from the window of her own small room,
saw Paul lift Etta from the sleigh, and the sight made her clench her
hands until the knuckles shone like polished ivory.

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. No one knew how she had
tried one dress after another since luncheon, alone in her two rooms,
having sent her maid down stairs. No one knew the bitterness in this
girl's heart as she contemplated her own reflection.

She went slowly down stairs to the long, dimly lighted drawing-room. As
she entered she heard her mother's cackling voice.

"Yes, princess," the countess was saying, "it is a quaint old house;
little more than a fortified farm, I know. But my husband's family were
always strange. They seem always to have ignored the little comforts and
elegancies of life."

"It is most interesting," answered Etta's voice, and Catrina stepped
forward into the light.

Formal gre