“This is my favourite corner,” she said. “Beyond are the flower gardens, and the air here at night is always sweet. You shall sit with me, my friend, and you shall tell me what it is that brings you with this look of trouble in your face.”
His eyes remained fixed upon her with a sudden passionate wistfulness. She was very sweet and gracious, and her slow speech seemed to him more musical than ever. So he sat by her side, and a little sea of white satin and lace and soft draperies covered up all the space between them, for it had been a State dinner at the palace, and he found speech very difficult.
“Now this is restful and very pleasant,” she said, after a long pause. “But you must tell me why you have come. It was not by chance—to see me? But no? You spoke also of my brother.”
Her eyes sought his—a spice of coquetry in their questioning gleam. But the cloud lingered upon his face.
“I would not have dared to come at such an hour,” he said, “if my visit were an ordinary one.”
“How very unenterprising,” she murmured. “I am sure that this is much the pleasantest time of the day.”
“Countess,” he said, slowly, “is Baron Domiloff a friend of yours?”
“Of mine? But no. Why do you ask such a question?”
“He has been banished from Theos. Did you know that he was hiding still in the city?”
She shook her head slowly.