"Do I look worn out?" she asked.
Cosmo raised his head and looked at her steadily. The impression of her grace and her strength filled his breast with an admiring and almost oppressive emotion. He could find nothing to say, not knowing what was uppermost in his mind, pity or admiration, mingled with a vague anger.
"Well, what do you see in my face?"
"I never have seen such serenity on any face," said Cosmo. "How sure of itself your soul must be!"
Her colour became heightened for a moment, her eyes darkened as she said in a grateful tone, "You are right, Cosmo. My face is not a mask."
But he hardly heard her. He was lost in wonder at the sudden disorder of his thoughts. When he regained his mental composure he noticed that Madame de Montevesso seemed to be listening.
"I wonder whether the Count is still with my father," she said. "Ring that bell on the table at your hand, Cosmo."
Cosmo did so and they waited, looking at each other. Presently the door swung open, and at the same time the cartel above it began to strike the hour. Cosmo counted eleven and then Madame de Montevesso spoke to Bernard, who waited in silence.
"Is M. le Comte still with my father?"
"I haven't seen him come out yet, Madame la Comtesse."