"Yes, please, mother," said I, relapsed into shyness and in great fear lest our doings should be discovered.
"Say good-bye now," commanded the Princess.
I should have liked to kiss the Countess again, but such an act would have risked a betrayal. Our adieu was made in proper form, the Countess accompanying us to the door. There we left her curtseying, while the Count handed my mother into the carriage. I looked round, and the Countess blew me a surreptitious kiss.
When we had driven a little way, my mother said:
"Do you like the Countess von Sempach?"
"She was kind to you?"
"Very, mother."
"Then why have you been crying, Augustin?"
"I haven't been crying," said I. The lie was needful to my compact with the Countess; my honour was rooted in dishonour.