“And you informed the Countess, I suppose?”
Madame Zand gave a snort.
“You suppose right. She is waiting for you in her chamber.”
The Countess was still in her night robe, although she had found time to don her veil.
She almost flew at Konstantina as she pushed open the chamber door.
“I do not have to ask where you have been in that mourning gown! You have been to that old fool’s funeral. Who did you see there? Who?”
She knew that this was no time to attempt to lie.
“I saw Prince Gregor,” Konstantina replied.
The Countess spun away with her hand to her face.
“Do you have any idea,” she hissed, “of what pain your treachery causes me?”
“T-treachery?” Konstantina repeated, bewildered. “I was disobedient, yes, but – treachery?”
“What else would you call it,” raged the Countess, “whe
