"Cold as ice." Raoul completed the sentence with a bitter intonation. "I can assure you that I am not so much to be envied as you suppose."
"True, the young Countess has a certain reputation for caprice. But that is the prerogative of handsome women."
"If it were caprice only, that would be nothing new: she was always capricious. But since our betrothal she has adopted a distant tone; she is perfectly unapproachable. It puts my patience to the severest test. I cannot stand it much longer."
There was extreme irritation in his tone. Clermont shrugged his shoulders. "Who of us can make his own choice? I cannot, although sooner or later I must marry, and my sister was married at sixteen to a man over fifty, Needs must."
Raoul scarcely heard the last words; he had continued to watch the door expectantly, and he suddenly started up, for it opened, and a silken train rustled across the threshold.
The lady who entered was of medium height, slender, and, although no longer in her first youth, exquisitely graceful. Her face could not be called beautiful, perhaps not even pretty, but it had an odd, piquant charm of its own. The black hair dressed in short close curls all over the head made the face look younger than it really was; there was a tender, veiled look in the dark eyes, which could, nevertheless, sparkle brilliantly, as they did now when they perceived the young Count. In vain was all attempt to analyze the charm that lay in those irregular and scarcely refined features; there it was, and when the face grew animated in conversation every line of it was interesting and brilliant.
Raoul had risen instantly and hastened towards the new-comer, whose hand he raised to his lips. "I have only a moment," he said, "but I could not help waiting for a glimpse of you, since Henri tells me you are going out."
"Oh, we need not go for half an hour yet," Frau von Nérac said, with a glance at the clock. "You see, Henri is not dressed yet."
"I must go and dress now," said Clermont. "Excuse me, Raoul; I shall be here again shortly."
He left the room, and Raoul certainly seemed nothing loath to be left to a tête-à-tête with his friend's sister. He took a seat opposite her, and in a few moments the pair were engaged in eager and lively conversation, chiefly concerning airy trifles, but gay and brilliant in the extreme. Frau von Nérac showed herself a mistress of persiflage, and the young Count was no whit her inferior in this regard. The cloud upon his brow vanished, leaving not a trace; he was in his element.