This mourning was not solely in his habit, but in the recesses of his heart, and his pallid cheeks attested what grief he had undergone. Never are handsome faces finer than after sorrow, and the rapid glance of his wife perceived that he had never looked more superb.
She closed her eyes an instant, slightly held back her head to draw a full breath and laid her hand on her heart which seemed about to break.
When she opened them, after a second, Charny was in the same place.
“Is the carriage to wait?” inquired the servant, urged by the footman at the door.
An unspeakable look shot from the yearning eyes of the visitor upon his wife, who was dazed into closing her own again, while she stood breathless as though she had not noticed the glance or heard the question. Both had penetrated to her heart.
Charny sought in this lovely living statue for some token to indicate what answer he should make. As her shiver might be read both ways, he said: “Bid the coachman wait.”
The door closed and perhaps for the first time since their wedding the lord and his lady were alone together.
“Pardon me,” said the count, breaking the silence, “but is my unexpected call intrusion? I have not seated myself and the carriage waits so that I can depart as I came.”
“No, my lord, quite the contrary,” quickly said Andrea. “I knew you were well and safe, but I am not the less happy to see you after recent events.”
“You have been good enough then to ask after me?”