“But you have always known, madame,” pointed out the countess, “that some day the prince would marry.”
“Yes,” said madame; “but if I wish, I will take him away from his wife on his wedding-night, as I did on the night of his betrothal!” and she attacked her salade viciously. “Oh, I am not a fool,” she went on. “I know what is planned—Danilo confides in me. I know what occurred last night. I had made up my mind to prevent it, but....”
“But your better sense prevailed,” said the countess. “You said to yourself, since a marriage must take place, it may as well be now as any time, more especially since now it will give the dynasty its throne again, while, in another six months, it will be too late.”
“That makes nothing to me!” sniffed Madame Ghita.
“And since it will also give you an annuity,” went on the countess, undisturbed, “on which you can live in comfort—luxury even.”
“I warn you that luxury is expensive.”
“One can live very well,” said the countess, “even in these days, on a hundred and fifty thousand francs a year.”
There was a moment’s silence. Selden was deeply moved to see a tear roll slowly down Madame Ghita’s cheek and splash into her plate. But there was one tear only; she was herself again in a moment.
“Come,” she said, “I must understand where I am. Is it Lappo who sent you to me?”
“Yes; he asked me to see you, since he had failed himself.”