But the Doctor said:
“You can thank me for saving you there. I am sure you were going to say Argus.”
The Baron raised his eyebrows and looked at the Doctor in surprise through his thick glasses, as if he had never heard such ridiculous things. But the Doctor paid no heed. What did he care for the Baron?
I still lurked by the door. The dancers swept through the room. I managed to start a conversation with the governess from the vicarage. We talked about the war, the state of affairs in the Crimea, the happenings in France, Napoleon as Emperor, his protection of the Turks; the young lady had read the papers that summer, and could tell me the news. At last we sat down on a sofa and went on talking.
Edwarda, passing, stopped in front of us. Suddenly she said:
“You must forgive me, Lieutenant, for surprising you outside like that. I will never do it again.”
And she laughed again, and did not look at me.
“Edwarda,” I said, “do stop.”
She had spoken very formally, which meant no good, and her look was malicious. I thought of the Doctor, and shrugged my shoulders carelessly, as he would have done. She said:
“But why don't you go out in the kitchen? Eva is there. I think you ought to stay there.”