CHAPTER XXVIII — IN THE CASTLE OF THORS
A week later Catrina, watching from the window of her own small room, saw Paul lift Etta from the sleigh, and the sight made her clench her hands until the knuckles shone like polished ivory.
She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. No one knew how she had tried one dress after another since luncheon, alone in her two rooms, having sent her maid down stairs. No one knew the bitterness in this girl’s heart as she contemplated her own reflection.
She went slowly down stairs to the long, dimly lighted drawing-room. As she entered she heard her mother’s cackling voice.
“Yes, princess,” the countess was saying, “it is a quaint old house; little more than a fortified farm, I know. But my husband’s family were always strange. They seem always to have ignored the little comforts and elegancies of life.”
“It is most interesting,” answered Etta’s voice, and Catrina stepped forward into the light.
Formal greetings were exchanged, and Catrina saw Etta look anxiously toward the door through which she had just come. She thought that she was looking for her husband. But it was Claude de Chauxville for whose appearance Etta was waiting.
Paul and Steinmetz entered at the same moment by another door, and Catrina, who was talking to Maggie in English, suddenly stopped.