She held out her hand to me with a charming smile, but her eyes and thoughts were only for her husband, nor could I find it in my heart to blame her, for, beside him, I was so crude, so ordinary, worth scarcely a passing glance. Indeed, I was myself somewhat confused at the revelation of my friend’s distinguished title and bowed over her hand awkwardly enough.
“You are welcome, monsieur,” she said. “At dinner we must hear the story of these adventures. You have no doubt been all day in the saddle—you need rest, refreshment. Come—but first you must meet my guest;” and she led the way toward the terrace where her companion awaited us.
“What fortune!” cried M. le Comte, as he sprang up the steps, and in another moment he was kissing the cheek of a lady, young, divinely fair, as I saw in the single glance I dared take at her, who blushed most becomingly as she received his salute.
“My dear,” he added, “this is M. de Tavernay. I have already asked Madame la Comtesse to be kind to him. With you, I can only beg that you will not be cruel. M. de Tavernay, this is Mlle. de Chambray, who permits you to kiss her hand.”
As I bowed before her and touched her fingers with lips not wholly steady, I was suddenly conscious of the dust and travel-stains which covered me, head to foot. She would think me ridiculous, no doubt; but when I summoned courage to glance up at her, I was astonished to see that her face was scarlet, and that she was staring at me with startled eyes. Then she withdrew her hand and turned hastily away, her shoulders shaking convulsively, and I felt my own cheeks grow red.
Luckily our friends were too engrossed in each other to perceive this bit of comedy—or perhaps tragedy would, from my standpoint, be the better word. A moment later, my ears still burning, I stalked stiffly away after the man to whom I had been entrusted, through a vestibule, up a wide flight of stairs, and into a spacious room overlooking the gardens at the back of the house.
“Dinner is at eight,” said the man. “If there is anything monsieur requires he will ring the bell yonder;” and after unstrapping my portmanteau and glancing around to assure himself that everything was right, he left the room and closed the door behind him.
The instant I was alone, dignity and self-control fell from me like a mantle, and flinging myself into a chair, I stared blindly out through the open window. The garden was a formal one in the Italian style, not large, but elegantly planned, and sloping gently to the margin of the river, which seemed here both broad and deep. Beyond it was a tangle of trees and shrubbery, and farther away, upon the side of a little hill, were the white houses of a village, their windows bright with the rays of the setting sun.
But it was at none of these things I looked—though I see them now as plainly as if they were here before me—for my eyes were turned inward at the tumult in my own bosom, and my brain was wondering numbly why it was that my life, heretofore so bright, had turned suddenly so gray; that the green valleys of the future had changed to sandy, barren wastes; that the very savor of living was as dust in my throat. I had glanced for an instant into a pair of startled eyes, and that instant had struck the boyish carelessness from my heart as with a blow.
But at last I shook the feeling off—or perhaps it was only the warm blood of youth asserting itself—and when the man came with the candles I could proceed with my toilet with almost, if not quite, my old calmness. When it was finished I turned to the glass and contemplated the reflection there. Fresh the face undoubtedly was, and if not handsome, at least not grotesque; but with the memory of my host before me I thought it absurdly boyish. The figure, while erect enough, had not that easy poise I had marked in him, nor did the garments in which I had arrayed myself fall into those natural and graceful lines which somehow stamp the finished gentleman. As I stared gloomily at myself I recalled the careless words of Sergeant Dubosq. Yes, he was right; he had hit the mark—I was too young, too pink and white, too much of the country.