“In America, when a man puts a sword in his hand, it is to kill somebody. Here—aye, all over the continent, for that matter—swords are baubles for young nobles, used to slash each other in love affairs. I respect and admire you; had I not done so, I should not have spoken. Countess, be frank with me, as frank as I have been with you; have I not guessed rightly?”
“Yes, Monsieur,” her head bowed and her cheeks white. “Yes, yes! it was a miserable game. But I love Madame; I would sacrifice my pride and my heart for her, if need be.”
“I can believe that.”
“And believe me when I say that the moment I saw you, I knew that my conduct was going to be detestable. But I had given my promise. A woman has but little to offer to her country; I have offered my pride, and I am a proud woman, Monsieur. I am ashamed. I am glad that you spoke, for it was becoming unbearable to throw myself at a man whose heart I knew intuitively to be elsewhere.” She raised her eyes, which were filled with a strange luster. “Will you forgive me, Monsieur?”
“With all my heart. For now I know that we shall be friends. You will be relieved of an odious part; for you are too handsome not to have in keeping some other heart besides your own.”
He then began gaily to describe some of his humorous adventures, and continued in this vein till they arrived once more at the chateau. Sometimes the countess laughed, but he could see that her sprightliness was gone. When they came under the porte cochere he sprang from his horse and assisted her to dismount; and he did not relinquish her hand till he had given it a friendly pressure. She stood motionless on the steps, centered a look on him which he failed to interpret, then ran swiftly into the hall, thence to her room, the door of which she bolted.
“It would not be difficult,” he mused, communing with the thought which had come to him. “It would be something real, and not a chimera.”
He turned over the horses to the grooms, and went in search of Fitzgerald to inform him of his discovery; but the Englishman was nowhere to be found. Neither was Madame. Being thirsty, he proceeded to the dining hall. Fadette, the maid, was laying the silver.
“Ah, the `pantry maid,'” he thought. “Good day, Fadette.”
“Does Monsieur wish for something?”