The heirs, as may be supposed, had accepted this situation joyfully. Their fears were quite allayed by M. Goefle’s apparent indifference—which they regarded as a practical denial of Johan’s assertions—and by the air of perfect security which Christian very naturally assumed from the moment that he was satisfied as to Stenson’s fate. Christian seconded still further the wishes of his friends by declining to accompany them in their search for the will; and as his presence was no longer required in the cabinet, the examination being over, he went into the hunting-gallery, and soon forgot everything except his anxiety to find out what had happened to Margaret. Suddenly he saw Countess Elveda coming into the gallery.
She recognized him while still at a distance, and came to meet him.
“Ah, ah!” she said gayly; “you have not gone, then, or you have returned, Monsieur Phantom? And in what a costume, to be sure! Have you just come from hunting in the middle of the night?”
“Exactly, madame,” replied Christian, who saw, from the cheerfulness of Margaret’s aunt, how little she knew or cared about her niece’s escapade. “I have been hunting bears a long way off, and have returned only to hear of the event—”
“Oh yes! the baron’s death!” said the countess, lightly. “It is all over, I trust, and one can venture to breathe again. I have been very unfortunate, for my part! From my rooms, you could hear all his dying groans. I was obliged to take refuge with Olga, and that young person entertained me with a different sort of music. That poor girl is very nervous, and when I informed her that instead of seeing the marionettes we should be obliged either to start for our homes in the fog, or to remain in the house of a dying man until he would be good enough to give up the ghost, she fell into frightful convulsions. Those Russians are so superstitious! At last we are quiet again, but I am going to take my departure at once, notwithstanding, for I hear they are going to ring a great bell, which is only rung at the death or birth of the seigneurs of the domain. I shall make my escape, therefore, for it will be impossible to sleep, and that bell tolling for the dead would make me desperately gloomy. Isn’t that it now?”
“I think it is,” replied Christian; “but don’t you intend to take the countess with you—your niece?”
He added, with the most perfect apparent frankness and simplicity:
“I am really very stupid to be unable to recall her name.”
“You are very artful!” replied the countess, laughing. “You must have been courting her the other evening, since you challenged the baron for her sake. Ah well, I am not at all shocked! such things belong to your age; and, after all, I was by no means displeased by your boldness in defying the baron, who was a very wicked man. You have good qualities—I am a judge—and I see now how unsuited to your character were the lessons in diplomacy and prudence that I gave you at our first meeting. You are in a different road; for there are two ways that lead to success—skill and courage. Good! you perhaps have chosen the shortest, that of the wrong-headed and audacious. You must go to Russia, my dear. You are handsome and bold. I have spoken to the ambassador about you, and he has plans for you. Do you understand me?”
“Not the least in the world, madame.”