"Ah! Sir George," she said, "I am so pleased to see you. But I think I should give you a scolding for not having been before."
I hastened to excuse myself on the plea of over-work, and, having obtained forgiveness and promised to amend my conduct in the future, I passed on to shake hands with her father. When I had been again thanked for my kindness in the matter of the French train, I followed the Colonial Secretary into the ball-room. I had not been there many minutes before I was greeted by a voice, which I instantly recognised, saying: "How do you do, Sir George," and turning, I found myself face to face with the handsome young Count Reiffenburg, Madame's cousin.
"And how do you like London?" I enquired, after the usual polite salutations had passed between us. "I think I understood you to say, on the occasion of our crossing from Paris, that this was your first visit?"
"I like it very much," he replied, "but, to be candid, not so much as Paris. I trust that is not a rude thing to say in London?"
"Every one is entitled to express his own opinion," I answered, somewhat coldly, for I had taken an instinctive dislike to this young fellow. "You must remember that you are seeing England at her worst just now. The times are too anxious for us to be very gay."
"You refer to the war, I suppose?" he answered. Then he added with what I could not help thinking was intended for a sneer: "The war is the sensation of the moment."
"It naturally would be," I replied. "Though proverbially phlegmatic, we still have sufficient feeling left to be patriotic; but perhaps your sympathies are with the other side?"
"One can scarcely help feeling some sympathy——"
"My dear Conrad," said the Countess, who had come upon us unperceived, "I really cannot let you talk politics in my ball-room. Go away and find your partner at once. Prove to her that you have learned to valse in Vienna."