"I wonder," she murmured, "why the way to one's duty lies always through Hell?"
Isobel's lips were quivering, and I dared make no effort to console her. The Archduchess came suddenly across the room to us, and bent affectionately over Isobel.
"My dear child," she said, "you are overtired. Go and talk to Adelaide. She is alone in the music-room. I have something to say to Mr. Greatson."
Isobel rose and left us at once. The Archduchess took her place. She was carrying a fan of black ostrich feathers, and she waved it languidly for some time as though in deep thought.
"Mr. Greatson," she said at length.
I turned and found her eyes fixed curiously upon me. These were moments which I remembered all my life, and every little detail in connection with them seemed flashed into my memory. The strange perfume, something like the burning of wood spice, wafted towards me by her fan, the glitter of the blue black sequins which covered her magnificent gown, the faint smile upon her parted lips, and the meaning in her eyes—all these things made their instantaneous and ineffaceable impression. Then she leaned a little closer to me.
"Mr. Greatson," she repeated, "I know your secret!"
CHAPTER IX
I am afraid that for the moment I lost my self-possession. I had gone through so much during the last few hours, and this woman spoke with such confidence—so quietly, and yet with such absolute conviction—that I felt the barriers which I had built about myself crumbling away. I answered her lamely, and without conviction.