“There are degrees and conditions of fools,” his daughter declared calmly.  “A man with a perfectly acute brain may have simply idiotic impulses towards credulity, and a credulous man is always a fool.  Anyhow, I know what Paul wants.”

There was a knock at the door.  Karetsky opened it and stood aside to let Nigel pass in.  Naida held out her hand to the latter with a smile.

“I am so glad that you have come,” she said, raising her eyes for a minute to his.  “Father, you remember Lord Dorminster?”

The two men exchanged a few commonplace remarks.  Then Karetsky reached for his hat.

“Your arrival, Lord Dorminster,” he observed, “leaves me free to make a few calls myself.  We shall, I trust, meet again.”

Nigel murmured a few courteous words and watched the retreating figure with some curiosity.

“Your father is very typical,” he declared.  “He reminds me of your country itself.  He is massive, has suggestions of undeveloped strength.”

“Add that he is a little ponderous,” Naida said lightly, “slow to make up his mind, but as obstinate as the Urals themselves, and you have described him.  Now tell me what you think of a young woman who rings you up without the slightest encouragement and invites you to come to the Opera purposely to visit her box.”

“I deny the absence of encouragement, and I am very grateful for the opportunity of coming,” Nigel answered.  “And if I were to tell you all that I think of you,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “it would take me a great deal longer than this quarter of an hour’s interval.”

These were their first few moments absolutely alone.  Neither of them was unduly emotional, neither wholly free from experience, yet they looked and spoke and felt as though the coming of new things was at hand.  The atmosphere of music, still present, was a wonderful background to the intensified sensations of which both were conscious.  Naida had the utmost difficulty in steadying her voice.

“I wanted to talk to you seriously because you can help me very much if you will,” she began.  “In a sense, I am over here upon a mission.  Some of us in Russia feel that your nation is imperfectly understood there.  We are bearing grudges against you which may not be wholly justified.  You see, to speak very plainly, we are under the constant influence of a people which cherishes no feelings of friendship towards you.”

For a moment the personal element had disappeared.  Nigel remembered who his companion was and all that she stood for.  He drew his chair a little nearer to hers.

“If you are looking for a typical Englishman,” he said, “I fear that I shall be a disappointment to you.  The typical Englishman of to-day is hiding his head in the sand.  I am not disposed to do anything of the sort.  I recognise a great coming danger, and I am afraid of your country.”

“The attitude of the official Englishman I know,” she declared, a little eagerly.  “What I want to find out is whether there are many like yourself, who are awake.”