“That is better, Ned,” remarked Mr. Strong, diplomatically. “It would be unfair for the count to get your definition first.”
“I really think,” put in Mrs. Strong, anxiety in her voice, “that we ought to change the subject.”
Count Szalaki glanced at her with a mournful smile on his lips and a pleading glance in his eloquent eyes.
“But, Mrs. Strong, you must take pity on me. Remember, I am only a barbarian. In my country, you know, we go very slowly. We cling to old forms, old customs, old ideas. That is why I came over here. I wished to broaden my mind and to keep in touch with the progress of the age.”
“Then there are no advanced women in Rexania?” asked Ned, courteously.
Count Szalaki seemed to wince as the name of his fatherland was brought into the discussion. Kate afterward said that he actually turned pale.
“I can hardly say that,” answered their guest, rather sadly, as it seemed. “There are women there who are discontented with our institutions, who are desirous of changes in all directions. I was only a boy at the time of the great outbreak in my country, ten years ago, but I remember that among the rioters were many women. One woman led a party of malcontents who attacked the palace. The guards were preparing to shoot her, when I saw what they were about to do and ordered them to lower their guns. Five years later, I was thrown from my horse while hunting in a forest, not far from Rexopolis, and broke my arm. I was carried to a hut in the woods, and an elderly woman very gently cared for me until help arrived from the palace. Before they took me away, she confided to me that she was the rebel who had led the attack on the palace and whose life I had saved. She became a loyal subject from the moment I gave the order that saved her life. She is now in the employ of the king, and is doing good service in keeping him informed of the doings of those who plot against the throne.”
An expression of surprise had crossed the faces of the diners at their guest’s tale.
“Pardon me,” remarked Ned, as the count ceased to speak, “but do you live in the palace at Rexopolis?”
If Count Szalaki felt any annoyance at his own loquacity he controlled it successfully. The influence of his surroundings had made him quite forget, for the time being, that he was hiding behind an incognito, and that ordinary prudence demanded that he should keep his secret. With a strong effort, he succeeded in suppressing all signs of dismay at his unguarded recklessness. His life had tended to make him diplomatic, but his nature was frank and confiding, and he was very sensitive to his environment. “Surely,” he thought, “these hospitable, kindly, democratic people are not of a suspicious character.” The thought reassured him, and he said: