"Count Karl wishes to speak to you alone—that's why I asked," he replied in his blunt, soldierly way.
"I think I am too embarrassed to know what to say or do;" and I sat down helplessly. "I believe it would be best for us all if we were to talk for about a quarter of an hour of nothing but the weather."
Karl laughed. "I can say what I want to say before the Colonel, Christabel," he declared. But Colonel Katona read something in my manner which disturbed him, and he looked at me earnestly, with an eager appeal in his eyes.
"I hope with all my heart it will be fine weather," I said with a meaning look; "but fine or wet I am not yet ready to...." I could think of no word to fit the sentence, and came to an impotent stop.
"I can wait," declared the Colonel, in evident relief; and turning his back to me, he stared resolutely out into the garden.
I glanced at Karl, and was pained to see how really worn and ill he looked. The sunken cheeks, hollow eye sockets, and haggard, drawn features told their tale of the struggle through which he had passed.
He placed a chair close to mine and as he sat down he said, in a low voice: "I have kept my word so far, Christabel, but I can't go through with it. It will beat me."
"You must have courage."
He shook his head with a despairing smile. "You'll think me a miserably weak creature, but I can't help it. I broke down yesterday and I had to do something. I wrote to the Duke and told him how it was with me, and that he must give his consent; and that if he would, I'd give mine."
I didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "You should not have done that."