"There must be no talk of that kind," she said. "You do not want to see him go again? No word must be said unless you want to drive him away. He has been ill."
"I am not surprised," said the earl, still a little grimly, "a man can't lead the life he has been leading and keep his health, moral or physical."
"But that is all past," said the countess confidently. "I feel that is all past. If you do not worry him he will stay, and all will go well."
"Oh, I won't worry his Imperial Highness," said the earl, with a smile, "that is what you want me to say, I suppose. And the girl—what about her?"
"I don't know," said the countess with all a mother's supreme indifference for the fate of any other than her son. "She is past, too. I am sure of that. How thankful I am that Lenore is here."
"Ah," said the earl who could be sarcastic when he liked. "So she is to be sacrificed as a thank-offering for the prodigal's return, is she? Poor Lenore, I am almost sorry for her. She is too good for him."
"For shame," exclaimed the countess, flushing; "no one is too good for him. And—and she will not deem it a sacrifice."
"No, I suppose not," he said, fumbling at his necktie. "It is well to be born with a handsome face, and a dare-devil temper, because all women love you then, and the best and fairest think it worth while to offer themselves up. Poor Lenore! Well, I'll be civil to his Highness, notwithstanding that he has spent a small fortune in two months, and declined to honor my house with his presence. There," he added, touching her cheek and smiling, "don't be alarmed. We will kill the fatted calf and make merry—till he goes off again."
The countess was satisfied with this, and went down to find Leycester and Lord Charles standing near the fire. Though they had only rented the place for a month, curtains were up on all the doors, and there was a fire in all the sitting-rooms, and in the earl's apartments.