“Well,” said Selden, philosophically, “since it seems he is certain to be plucked, why worry? At any rate, he will find the process more amusing at the hands of Mlle. Fayard than at those of the baron and the Princess Anna. It will do him good to get some hard knocks. But what about his sister? Are you free to tell me about your interview?”
“Oh, yes; it is as I thought. She has made up her mind to carry it through. She was not astonished or offended that the prince should have had a mistress. In fact, I think she already knew it.”
“You told her straight out?”
“But of course—why should I use équivoque? She is not a child. I explained that I was speaking, not because I considered the matter of great importance, but because I wanted her to be treated fairly and to understand everything.”
“What did she say?”
“She thanked me, entirely without warmth,” said the countess, smiling. “She does not like me—I seem to remind her of some one she dislikes very much. Nor, to be frank, do I like her. It is instinct, I suppose. We find ourselves antagonistic.”
Selden decided that it was time to gather his forces for the attack.
“Did you know her, out there in Montana?” he asked.
“I saw her, of course, but only a few times. She was away at school a great deal.”
“Last night she was looking at you as though wondering where she had seen you before.”