“I think,” replied Bertha, “for carriage driving I should prefer the quieter animals. I am not afraid when I am on horseback, but really I must decline your invitation. There are reasons——” She hesitated. The Count drew his chair closer to her.
“And what are the reasons, do you suppose, that have caused me to give up my pleasant life in Paris and come down here to this humdrum place?”
Bertha felt piqued by his persistency. “To see your lady-love, I suppose,” she said.
“To see a lady-love, yes. Do you know her name?”
“Mademoiselle Vivienne Batistelli, I presume,” replied Bertha, with a tone of restraint in her voice.
The Count laughed. “She is one of them. I suppose you may have heard that she is my prospective bride. But a Corsican falls in love many times before he weds.”
“I am not used to the ways of your country,” said Bertha, “and, for that reason, I cannot fully appreciate what you have just said.”
“But I know a great deal about your country,” rejoined the Count. “I had the pleasure of coming from Marseilles to Ajaccio on the same vessel with a true friend of yours.”
Bertha started and her cheeks flushed. Whom could he mean but Jack? He was only teasing her after all. She must be more gracious. She turned a smiling face towards the Count and said:
“I have so few friends in Corsica I should be pleased to learn that I have one more. When may I expect to see him?”