, but I do not now. Besides, I know the peasants. They
are hard to rouse, but once excited they are uncontrollable. They are
afraid of nothing. You must get away to-night."

Paul made no answer.

She turned slowly in her seat and looked into his face by the light of
the waning moon.

"Do you mean that you will not go?"

He met her glance with his grave, slow smile.

"There is no question of going," he answered. "You must know that."

She did not attempt to persuade. Perhaps there was something in his
voice which she as a Russian understood--a ring of that which we call
pig-headedness in others.

"It must be splendid to be a man," she said suddenly, in a ringing
voice. "One feeling in me made me ask you the favor, while another was a
sense of gladness at your certain refusal. I wish I was a man. I envy
you. You do not know how I envy you, Paul."

Paul gave a quiet laugh--such a laugh as one hears in the trenches after
the low hum of a passing ball.

"If it is danger you want, you will have more than I in the next week,"
he answered. "Steinmetz and I knew that you were the only woman in
Russia who could get your father safely out of the country. That is why
I came for you."

The girl did not answer at once. They were driving on the road again
now, and the sleigh was running smoothly.

"I suppose," she said reflectively at length, "that the secret of the
enormous influence you exercise over all who come in contact with you is
that you drag the best out of every one--the best that is in them."

Paul did not answer.

"What is that light?" she asked suddenly, laying her hand on the thick
fur of his sleeve. She was not nervous, but very watchful.
"There--straight in front."

"It is the sleigh," replied Paul, "with your father and Steinmetz. I
arranged that they should meet us at the cross-roads. You must be at the
Volga before daylight. Send the horses on to Tver. I have given you
Minna and The Warrior; they can do the journey with one hour's rest, but
you must drive them."

Catrina had swayed forward against the bar of the apron in a strange
way, for the road was quite smooth. She placed her gloved hands on the
bar and held herself upright with a peculiar effort.

"What?" said Paul. For she had made an inarticulate sound.

"Nothing," she answered. Then, after a pause, "I did not know that we
were to go so soon. That was all."

CHAPTER XLII

THE STORM BURSTS

The large drawing-room was brilli