“Pardon me,” interrupted Mr. Medlicott acidly, “but I do not see how my private affairs can interest you, sir, I cannot—­”

But the host in turn interrupted him.

“If you will be so good as to listen patiently, you will find that this matter is of vital importance—­may I proceed?”

Mr. Medlicott bowed; what more could he do?  Count Roumovski went on: 

“I understand that Miss Rawson never showed very strong affection for you or great desire for this union—­so what I have to ask now is, if you, as a gentleman, will release her from her promise to you and set her free.”

“Upon my word, sir, this is too much,” Mr. Medlicott exclaimed, starting to his feet, “by what authority do you say these preposterous things?  You were only introduced to Miss Rawson and myself to-night.  You must be mad!”

“No, I am quite sane.  And I say them upon the best authority,” Count Roumovski continued, “because I love Miss Rawson myself, and I am deeply honored by believing that in return she loves me—­not you at all.  Therefore, it is common sense to ask you to release her, and let her be happy with the person she prefers—­is it not so?”

Eustace Medlicott had grown white with anger and astonishment as he listened, and now broke in hotly, forgetful of his intoning voice or anything but his outraged dignity.

“When have you had the opportunity to try and undermine the faith of my betrothed, may I ask?  Supposing you are saying this seriously and not as some ill-timed jest.”

Count Roumovski lifted his eyebrows a little and looked almost with pity at his adversary.  “We are not talking in the heroic manner,” he replied, unmoved by the other’s taunt, “we are, I presume, two fairly intelligent men discussing this affair together—­there has been no question of undermining.  Miss Rawson and myself found we understood each other very soon after we first met.  Surely, you must realize, sir, that love cannot be commanded, it will not come or go at one’s bidding.  These ridiculous bonds of convention, holding to a promise given when the spirit to keep it is no longer there, can ruin people’s lives.”

Mr. Medlicott drew himself up, he was not quite so tall as the Russian, but of no mean height, and his intense, ascetic face, emaciated to extreme leanness, now reddened with passion, while the veins stood out upon his high, narrow forehead.  He was always very irritable when crossed, and his obstinate nature was strongly combative.

“You forget, sir,” he said angrily, “you are insulting my honor.”

“Not the least in the world—­you do not understand the point,” Count Roumovski returned calmly.  “Listen for a minute—­and I will explain.  If Miss Rawson were already your wife I should be, and you would have the right to try and kill me, did your calling permit of that satisfaction of gentlemen, because there is a psychological and physiological reason involved in that case, producing the instinct in man which he is not perhaps conscious of, that he wishes to be sure his wife’s legitimate offspring are his own—­out of this instinct, civilization has built up the idea of a man’s honor—­which you can see has a basic principle of sense and justice.”