“Go, my prince,” he said, “and take a look at the ladies. Only, I pray you, do not enter the rooms. I have an affair of importance to discuss with our dear countess.”
The prince disappeared in an instant and the baron leaned back with a sigh.
“If he were only more serious,” he said; “but he resembles that great-great-uncle for whom he was named—intelligent, generous, but entirely mad when it comes to women and games of chance.”
“His father was also a little like that, was he not?” asked the countess, with a smile.
“Yes—it is true,” and the baron sighed again; “but he was also more earnest, more interested in affairs of state. It was a great blow to the king when he was killed—suddenly—like that—his eldest son. He knew nothing about it until they came bringing the body. Now all his hopes are centred in this boy, who causes us so many anxieties.”
“He is still young,” the countess pointed out; “and he is at least discreet—one hears nothing of his love affairs.”
“Ah, there at least we have been fortunate,” said the baron. “For some years now there has been only one. It has grown more serious than I like, yet it is far better than the ruinous affairs in which he might have been involved. But to the gambling there is no end as long as he can find a sou in his pocket. He has a sort of vertigo when he sees the tables, with the wheels going round and the banknotes falling here and there and the croupiers calling the numbers—a vertigo, that is how he describes it. Fortunately at present he has no money and I know no one of whom he can borrow. His debts, I think, have reached the limit. There is perhaps some comfort in that!” he added grimly.
During this discourse, as before that evening, the countess listened as though waiting for a cue and finding none.
“Why did you send for me?” she asked abruptly.
“Because I have need of you.”