And whether he raised her hand to his lips, or whether it raised itself, he never knew—but as he kissed those long, delicate fingers, he felt them flutter shyly against his mouth, like the wing of a bird.
“Come,” said the countess, who had lost nothing of all this—who had watched it indeed with the satisfaction of a general who sees his plan of battle succeed; “tell me you accept. There is nothing else to be done—your good sense tells you so. What would you gain by making a scene? You might prevent this marriage—though even that is by no means certain. But would that compensate you for ruining the prince, upsetting the dynasty, and condemning yourself to a life of poverty? There will never again be a chance like this. If this is lost, all is lost. You are still young....”
“Yes,” said Madame Ghita with a little smile, “so there is no reason why I should lead a life of poverty, unless I choose it.”
“That is true; but accept now, and you will have something very few women have—independence. You will be free to look for love—to wait for it!”
For an instant Madame Ghita’s eyes rested pensively upon Selden.
“Independence; yes, that is very nice,” she said. “But it is a pleasure to be dependent upon a man when one loves him!” Then she looked at the countess curiously. “I am astonished to find you on this side—so eloquent! I had always understood that you were Jeneski’s friend.”
Selden knew that the countess flushed, though his eyes were on the table. But her hand was in the range of his vision, and he saw that it was trembling.
“That is long since finished,” she said, a little thickly. “The baron is a much older friend—and I am doing what I think best for my country.”
“And for me also?” asked Madame Ghita, with a strange smile.
“Yes; for you also. Can you doubt it?”