"And if that should happen, what would you do?"
"I would be inexorable," he answered sternly. "I would tell who and what you are."
She lay motionless; her face still retained its calm, indifferent expression, only for a moment an angry flash darted from her eyes at the old gentleman, but she lowered her lids over them, as if they must not betray the secrets of her soul.
A pause followed, interrupted only by the slow, regular ticking of the great Rococo clock which stood on the marble mantelpiece.
"You will not find it necessary to make such disclosures," Leonore said at last, slowly and wearily, "for you are perfectly right, I shall never grant love the mastery over my future. I know who I am, and that says everything. It will never be requisite to communicate it to others."
"I am sure of it," he said kindly. "And now, my dear Leonore, let us say nothing about our private affairs and pass on to business."
"Yes, let us do so," she answered quietly. "I am waiting for your questions."
"Then first: what did Count Andreossy want, when he begged for an interview so urgently yesterday evening?"
"You were listening?" she asked calmly.
"I heard it. I would gladly have listened to your conversation, but you were malicious enough to grant him the interview in the little corner drawing-room, which has but a single entrance. So it was impossible to enter it unnoticed. Well, what did the count want?"