Hamilton leaned out for some time in silence, and then whispered—“Who is that?” He pointed to the opposite side of the street, where a figure, muffled in a cloak, had been standing opposite the house, and now began to walk quickly away. “Do you know who that was?”
“I think it was Count Zedwitz,” answered Hildegarde.
“You knew he was there? You came to the window to see him?”
“No,” said Hildegarde, quietly.
“Then how could you know him so directly?”
“I recognised the cloak he used to wear at Seon.”
“Ah—yes—true—poor fellow!” said Hamilton.
“How inclined you are to suspect me!” said Hildegarde, reproachfully.
“One might suspect, without blaming you, for giving Zedwitz a gleam of hope to lighten his despair.”
“I should blame myself, for it would be unpardonable coquetry!”