The Aunt Caroline's elderly maid easily agreed to this. It was true there did not seem to be anyone adventurous-looking, and Miss Stella would be more or less under her eye—and she was thoroughly tired with traveling and what not. So Stella found herself happily unchaperoned, except by Baedecker, as she strolled on.
The Russian had disappeared from view, the bushes and vases in the center of the garden plot gave only occasional chances to see people at a distance.
But when Stella had entered the Ludovici collection she perceived him to the right, gazing at the statue of the beautiful Mars.
He turned instantly, as though some one told him she was near—and his calm eyes took in the fact that she was alone. The small room was empty but for the two, and he addressed her as he removed his hat.
"Good morning, mademoiselle," he said gravely. "Mars is a strong attraction. I knew I should presently find you here—so when I caught sight of your spiritual outline across the garden, I came and—waited."
"He is most splendid-looking, is he not," Stella returned, trying to suppress the sudden tingle of pleasure that was thrilling her, "and look how much character there is in his hands."
"Shall we go and study the others, or shall we find a bench in the garden and sit down and talk?" Count Roumovski asked serenely, and then smiled to himself as he noticed his companion's apprehensive glance in the direction where, far away, Martha dozed in peace.
"It would be nice out of doors—but—" and Stella faltered.
"Do not let us be deprived of pleasure by any buts—there is one out there who will warn us when your maid wakes. See—" and he advanced toward the entrance door, "there is a bench by that rose tree where we can be comparatively alone."
Stella struggled no more with herself. After all, it was her last chance—Eustace Medlicott's train got in at five o'clock!