“What is the matter, Baroness? You are not well,” said Gatrina with a startled glance at me, followed by a searching look at Elma’s white confusion.
“It is my turn to feel the heat,” she replied, trying to force a laugh. “Really, Mr. Bergwyn, I shall begin to be afraid you have some effect on the atmosphere. First it upset Gatrina, and now me.”
“You did not like my suggestion, I see. I will withdraw it,” I answered, quietly. “Pray pardon me.” Gatrina sat thinking hard; and I guessed I had started the line of thought. “It is a curious thing,” I went on, as if merely to cover the pause; “but I have had more than one experience of the kind. I mean where I have been in conversation with people and suddenly, without any palpable cause, they have been overcome—by the atmosphere.”
“You must be a dangerous man,” laughed Elma, who was quickly recovering herself.
“Not dangerous, I trust, to—my friends”; and I bowed and smiled, and gave her a look which she understood.
We were interrupted then by someone who came from the Queen.
“Her Majesty desires me to remind your Highness that the dancing is about to commence,” he said to Gatrina, and added to Elma, “Her Majesty desires to speak with you at once, Baroness.”
Elma rose. “I suppose I am interfering with your business and so am ordered away,” she said with a sneer.
“Will you give me a dance, Princess?” I asked. The moment we were alone the feeling of restraint was revived.
“It is by the Queen’s desire,” she answered, with a shrug as she put the tips of her fingers on my arm and I led her away. It was a waltz and we danced it in silence. At the close I did not know what she would wish to do, and as I hesitated, she said suddenly: