“I do not understand,” she said, as he bowed low before her. “My servants have no authority to send you here. I am not receiving this afternoon—and you—you surely should be at the palace.”
“I offer my most profound apologies, Countess,” he said respectfully. “Your servants are not at fault. It was my persistence which prevailed.”
“You have some message for me?” she asked, doubtfully.
“None,” he answered. “I have come here on my own initiative. You will permit me the honour of a few minutes’ interview. As to my absence from the palace, is that more likely to be remarked upon than yours, Countess?”
She waived the question.
“It is at least more surprising,” she answered. “Do you wish your Austrian friends to have it all their own way with the King?”
“The Countess of Reist’s sympathies are, I fear,” he murmured, “with my rival.”
“My sympathies,” she answered, “are with neither of you. You each seek aggrandizement at our expense. I am a Thetian, and I believe that the less we have to do with foreigners the better. But I do not see, Baron Domiloff, what profit there can be in a discussion of this sort between you and me. I am still waiting for an explanation of your presence here. Which of my servants has proved faithless?”
“None,” he answered. “I made my way here unknown to anybody. I came, Countess, to ask you a question.”