Countess Betty sank on a couch, white to her lips.
"Your trusted handmaiden," repeated the fiddler, emphatically.
"Alas! if I had hesitated," said the lady, piously turning up her eyes to the vaulted ceiling, "this would decide it; I dare not risk another night in this castle."
"Taking risk for risk," said the musician, carelessly, "if I were timid, I should prefer the waiting hazard."
"You mean?" she panted, round-eyed, in quick apprehension.
"I mean," said he, "that it is raining exceedingly hard, and that between this and the foot of the crag you will get wet, madam; so wet as to extinguish for ever the most ardent flame."
The Burgravine rose with dignity. "I will have you know, sir, that I am merely accepting Count Kielmansegg's protection back to my own family, because I know I can trust to his honour."
"Quite so," said Geiger-Hans, in a soothing voice. "And it is, of course, infinitely preferable to set forth by night in secret, with a handsome young man, than to summon any more aged or nearer relative to your help! A father, maybe—or a brother? But it is raining, as I say, madam, very hard. So much for the start. And I am afraid when you arrive in Austria your noble family may consider your journey ill-managed."
Her bosom heaved.
"It is very unjust," she moaned, "that you men can do everything, whereas we poor women——" She paused on the brink of tears.