‘Come,’ said she, laughing, ‘you have really wounded a national feeling in a Polish heart—you have asserted a superiority at a game of skill. I must beat you;’ and with that she placed five louis on the table. She lost. Again the same stake followed, and again the same fortune, notwithstanding that I did all in my power to avoid winning—of course without exciting her suspicions.
‘And so,’ said she, as she dealt the cards, ‘Ireland is really so picturesque as you say?’
‘Beautifully so,’ replied I, as, warmed up by a favourite topic, I launched forth into a description of the mountain scenery of the south and west. The rich emerald green of the valleys, the wild fantastic character of the mountains, the changeful skies, were all brought up to make a picture for her admiration; and she did indeed seem to enjoy it with the highest zest, only interrupting me in my harangue by the words, ‘Je marque le Roi,’ to which circumstance she directed my attention by a sweet smile, and a gesture of her taper finger. And thus hour followed hour; and already the grey dawn was breaking, while I was just beginning an eloquent description of the Killeries, and the countess suddenly looking at her watch, cried out—
‘How very dreadful! only think of three o’clock!’
True enough, it was that hour; and I started up to say good-night, shocked at myself for so far transgressing, and yet secretly flattered that my conversational powers had made time slip by uncounted.
‘And the Irish are really so clever, so gifted as you say?’ said she, as she held out her hand to wish me good-night.
‘The most astonishing quickness is theirs,’ replied I, half reluctant to depart; ‘nothing can equal their intelligence and shrewdness.’
‘How charming! Bonsoir,’ said she, and I closed the door.
What dreams were mine that night! What delightful visions of lake scenery and Polish countesses, of mountain gorges and blue eyes, of deep ravines and lovely forms! I thought we were sailing up Lough Corrib; the moon was up, spangling and flecking the rippling lake; the night was still and calm, not a sound save the cuckoo being heard to break the silence. As I listened I started, for I thought, instead of her wonted note, her cry was ever, ‘Je marque le Roi.’
Morning came at last; but I could not awake, and endeavoured to sink back into the pleasant realm of dreams, from which daylight disturbed me. It was noon when at length I succeeded in awaking perfectly.