‘You mistake me: it was not a compliment,’ replied Walstein. ‘It was a sincere and becoming tribute of gratitude for three hours of endurable existence.’
‘You know that you are my patient,’ rejoined Madame de Schulembourg. ‘I have orders to cure your melancholy. I am very successful in such complaints.’
‘I have no doubt of it,’ replied Walstein, with a slight bow.
‘If we could but find out the cause!’ continued Caroline. ‘I venture to believe that, after all, it will turn out an affair of the heart. Come, be frank with your physician. Tell me, have you left it captive with a fair Greek of the Isles, or a dark-eyed maiden of the Nile? Is our heroine a captive behind a Spanish jalousie, or in an Italian convent?’
‘Women ever believe that all moods and tempers of man are consequences of their influence,’ replied Walstein, ‘and in general they are right.’
‘But in your case?’
‘Very wrong.’
‘I am determined to find it out,’ said Madame de Schulembourg.
‘I wish to heaven you could,’ said Baron de Walstein.
‘I think a wandering life has spoiled you,’ said Caroline. ‘I think it must be civilisation that you find wearisome.’