It was now a very bitter day in March. We had been at school for two months. The time had flown. I was a healthy and very happy girl.
Mademoiselle Wrex said, “We must walk quickly to keep ourselves warm in this so bitter north-east wind.”
We all walked quickly, with our hands in our muffs, and as we were passing a pillar-box I dropped the letters in.
“Now that is off my mind,” I thought, with a sigh of relief.
“How did you manage to write two letters?” asked Hermione. “You were in such a fearful fuss getting through your one!”
I made no answer. Something the next moment distracted our attention, and we absolutely forgot the circumstance.
It was not until about a week afterwards that I observed a change in Comtesse Riki. She was very pale, and coughed now and then. She no longer took interest in her work, and often sat for a long time pensive and melancholy, her eyes fixed on my face. One bitterly cold day I found her alone in the salon, where we seldom sat; for although there was what was called central heating all over the house, it was not often put on to any great extent in the salon. Riki had flung herself into a chair which was the reverse of comfortable. She started up when she saw me.
“Oh, you will sympathise with me in my trouble!”
“What is the matter?” I asked.
“If we might go for a little walk together.”