"I'm afraid present circumstances will scarcely answer to your description," said Maurice.
Arthur laughed: "No, indeed, you and I seem to be the only sane people in the establishment. I gather from the waiters—one of whom, happily for me, speaks English—that the present company consists of an elderly gentleman, ill or out of his mind, certainly peculiar; his daughter, an angel of beauty and goodness; a fuming Austrian, scouring the mountains for his lost wife; attendant brother, similarly occupied; landlord, landlady, staff of servants."
Maurice smiled: "I think you have omitted nobody, only, for fear your expectations should have risen too high, even under circumstances so meagre, I should inform you that the angel of beauty is a child, a mere baby; but my arrival only preceded yours by a few hours, so, like you, I speak from rumor. Now, may I venture to ask how long you will be likely to stand out against such an atrocious state of things? I have an interest in the question, as I believe I am a fixture for some time."
It was by no means an easy question for Arthur to answer. He might have said that the time of his stay depended entirely upon Maurice himself. Not being able to give the true answer, he treated the question as lightly as possible: "Oh I I can scarcely say, exactly. I was recommended to come—mountains in winter, snow, and that kind of thing; they certainly look very well, but, you see, I am not precisely an enthusiast in that line."
"Was it for your health?" asked Maurice with grave interest, looking compassionately at the fresh young face, whose brilliant coloring might possibly hide disease.
This question made Arthur turn as red as fire. The knowledge of what his errand really was rendered him painfully self-conscious. "Why, no—yes—no, I mean," he answered, his confusion growing as he advanced.—"What a fool I must be!" he muttered to himself angrily; then, as he caught a faint smile, polite but perplexed, on the lips of his questioner, he controlled himself suddenly. "The fact is," he said rapidly, "I've been so desperately chaffed about this midwinter journey—But, you see, I rather like cold weather, and the air here is bracing."
Maurice saw his questions had been ill-timed, and with true courtesy proceeded to change the subject: "You would not have said so yesterday. Then, and for some days previously, it was anything but bracing up here. We had a fine blanket of cold mist about us—not a tree to be seen beyond the distance of a handsbreadth."
"I thought you had only arrived yesterday," said Arthur, a tremor in his voice. He knew perfectly well whence Maurice had come, but it was his plan to feign ignorance; he wished to draw him on to speak about himself.
Maurice smiled: "I don't come from very far. You must have heard from the people about here of the peculiar Englishman who shuns civilized places—I believe this is the form the rumors take—and lives by himself in a chalet among the mountains. That strange individual is before you now."
Arthur bowed, as in acknowledgment of this peculiar kind of introduction. "I must confess," he replied, "that Mr. Grey is known to me by fame, and being so far in advance of you I must ask you to be obliging enough to accept my card. If, as I suppose, we are to dine in this way tête-à-tête for some few days to come, it is as well that we should at least know each other by name."