“Oh, no. Solden lies across the hills there. A rough road but fairly direct. The only point of difficulty is just over the brow of the hill where the road forks. Take that to the right or you will go astray and might find yourselves in Cracow, after some forty miles or so, that is——” and he smiled pleasantly.
“I’ll remember what you said,” I replied, “and am much obliged to you.”
“It is a pleasure. I have been in England; and speak English a little. But I read much.” We then chatted about London and the incidents of his visit until Volna came up.
“My sister,” I said. As he greeted her I saw him start and look very closely at her.
“How do you do?” he said in English, to her complete discomfiture, holding out his hand. I read her signals of distress and sailed in to the rescue.
“My sister is unfortunately dumb,” I said.
“How sad,” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. Then he looked puzzled. “She bears a remarkable resemblance to a very beautiful woman whom I knew in the long ago. Twenty years and more. She is a Pole, and is now the Countess Drakona. How very strange.”
“Yes, these chance likenesses are very extraordinary,” I said, gravely. “Come, Peggy, we must get on,” I added to Volna, in English, and put her in the saddle again.
“How very sad,” he repeated, mournfully. “And yet how clever of her to be able to make herself understood in buying things.”
“The education of the dumb in England is almost perfect. Signs are their language, you know,” I replied, as I shook hands with him and mounted.