“Indeed! Rather an uncommon type of face, too. She’s a lovely woman still, though she looks delicate.”
I assented silently. Somehow I did not care to discuss her with this stranger.
“Perhaps you noticed,” he went on, after a short pause, “that it was rather a shock to me to see them here?”
“Yes, I did notice that,” I admitted.
He sighed and looked grave for a moment. Then he poured himself out a glass of champagne and drank it deliberately off.
“It was purely a matter of association,” he said, in a low tone. “A somewhat painful incident in my life was connected with that family, although with no present member of it. Pass the bottle, and let us change the subject.”
We talked of other things, and for a time all my former interest in his piquant anecdotes and trenchant remarks was renewed. But while he was gravely considering with a waiter the relative merits of two brands of claret, I found my eyes wandering to the table at our right, in search of the woman whose face had so attracted me. This time my eyes met hers.
Then a strange thing happened. Instead of looking away at once, she kept her eyes steadily fixed upon me and suddenly gave a distinct start. I saw the colour rush into her face and leave it again almost as swiftly; her thin lips were slightly parted, and her whole expression was one of great agitation. I tried to look away, but I could not; I felt somehow forced to return her steady gaze. But when she turned to her husband and touched him on the arm, evidently to direct his attention to me, the spell was broken, and I moved my chair slightly, making some casual remark to my companion which was sufficient to set the ball of conversation rolling again. But one stolen glance a few moments later showed me that both husband and wife were regarding me attentively, and several times afterwards, when I looked over towards their table, I met Lady Langerdale’s eyes, full of a sad, wistful, and withal puzzled expression which I could not read.
As dinner drew towards a close it occurred to me that my vis-à-vis had studiously avoided turning once towards our neighbours. If he desired to escape recognition, however, he was unsuccessful, for just as we were beginning to think of quitting our places, Lord Langerdale left his seat to speak to some acquaintances at the other end of the room, and on his way back he looked straight into my companion’s face. He started slightly, hesitated, and then came slowly up to our table.
“Eugène!” he exclaimed. “By all that’s wonderful, is it really you? Why, we heard that you had become an Oriental, and forsworn the ways and haunts of civilisation.”