“By sleep I suppose you mean spend the night?” said Hugh to Funkelstein. “I cannot be certain of sleeping, you know.”
“Of course, I mean that,” answered the other; and, turning to Euphrasia, continued:
“I must say I consider it rather courageous of him to dare the spectre as he does, for he cannot say he disbelieves in her. But come and sing me one of the old songs,” he added, in an under tone.
Euphra allowed him to lead her to the piano; but instead of singing a song to him, she played some noisy music, through which he and she contrived to talk for some time, without being overheard; after which he left the room. Euphra then looked round to Hugh, and begged him with her eyes to come to her. He could not resist, burning with jealousy as he was.
“Are you sure you have nerve enough for this, Hugh?” she said, still playing.
“I have had nerve enough to sit still and look at you for the last half hour,” answered Hugh, rudely.
She turned pale, and glanced up at him with a troubled look. Then, without responding to his answer, said:
“I daresay the count is not over-anxious to hold you to your bet.”
“Pray intercede for me with the count, madam,” answered Hugh, sarcastically. “He would not wish the young fool to be frightened, I daresay. But perhaps he wishes to have an interview with the ghost himself, and grudges me the privilege.”
She turned deadly pale this time, and gave him one terrified glance, but made no other reply to his words. Still she played on.