"The Countess! Oh a thousand pardons!"
What an un-Brethren-like phrase. And what a bad beginning.
She sniggered, was immensely tickled. "Ha! Ha! You thought I was a servant."
"Oh no! Not really—"
"Oh yes you did. And that does not surprise me. My daughters have always told me I look like an old family servant: this will amuse them so. Now come along to luncheon. One thing," she whispered confidentially as she opened the bedroom door, "before you begin with my daughters we must have a little talk together about them both, and what each had best read with you. Ah, they are so different, Elise and Suzanne: one would not think them sisters. What anxiety it all gives me!"
And she knitted her brows and half closed her eyes in an expression of exaggerated care I thought more comical than sad.
The Countess led the way down the great staircase. In place of a door the dining-room had high hanging curtains. We passed through them into by far the largest room I had ever seen. The floor was of polished wood; there were no rugs or carpets. In each distant corner was a complete suit of armour; all along the walls stood massive and stately pieces of furniture. In the middle of this huge apartment, like an island surrounded by an ocean of bare floor, was a table at which were seated four persons: two young ladies, a gentleman and a little old woman.
All four stared at me with unconcealed interest. Introductions left me in a maze; I was too self-conscious to hear names, far too full of the fact that I was being introduced to them to concentrate on their being introduced to me. Then for the next few minutes I was too busy trying to eat and drink aristocratically, acquiring slyly the new ritual of forks and spoons, posing modestly for five pairs of eyes, to hazard my own stare-round. Of the conversation, which was conducted almost exclusively by the Countess and her younger daughter Suzanne, and which concerned some peasant marriage in the district, I found after the first few moments that I understood almost everything. The food was as delicious as it was unfamiliar. There was an omelette with rich little crusts in it, and a venison-stew with olives.
Towards the end of the meal I found courage to take the offensive and look round. With pretence of unawareness that was pitiful to see, all immediately arranged themselves to be gazed at: except the elder girl Elise, who faced me with equal eye.