"Besides," put in Claudius, "you know I never play."
"Well," said Barker, with a sigh, "then I will play with you, and Claudius can go to sleep where he is." They cut and dealt. But Claudius did not feel at all sleepy. When the game was well started he rose and went out, making to himself the same reflection that Margaret had made, "Why is my friend so anxious to amuse me to-day?" He seldom paid any attention to such things, but his strong, clear mind was not long in unravelling the situation, now that he was roused to thinking about it. Barker had guessed the truth, or very near it, and the Duke and he had agreed to keep Claudius and Margaret apart as long as they could.
He went aft, and descended to the cabin. There sat Miss Skeat and Lady Victoria reading aloud, just as the Duke had said. He went through the passage and met the steward, or butler, whom he despatched to see if the Countess were in the ladies' cabin. The rosy-cheeked, gray-haired priest of Silenus said her ladyship was there, "alone," he added with a little emphasis. Claudius walked in, and was not disappointed. There she sat at the side of the table in her accustomed place, dark and beautiful, and his heart beat fast. She did not look up.
"Countess," he began timidly.
"Oh, Doctor Claudius, is that you? Sit down." He sat down on the transom, so that he could see the evening light fall through the port-hole above him on her side face, and as the vessel rose and fell the rays of the setting sun played strangely on her heavy hair.
"I have not seen you all day," she said.
"No, Countess." He did not know what to say to her.
"I trust you are none the worse for your foolish performance this morning?" Her voice was even and unmodulated, not too friendly and not too cold.
"I am, and I am not. I am unspeakably the worse in that I displeased you. Will you forgive me?"
"I will forgive you," in the same tone.