Augusta left the room. She had not been gone many minutes before there came a tap at the door, and the Comtesse, dressed in the palest blue and looking remarkably pretty, entered.
“Ah!” she said, “you have caught cold from me, you poor English girl, and I am so disconsolate.”
She sank down at the foot of the bed and fixed her bright eyes on my face.
“You are much better,” I said.
“Ah, yes, that is so. I am what is called more spirited, and it is because of you; but for you I should be indeed disconsolate. I might have chosen the stupid, the so weary life of the good German housewife, instead of—”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“I cannot say more. There are secrets which can be guessed but which must not be spoken.”
“Riki,” I said, “I do wish you would give me a right good lesson in talking German.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t—to give you a lesson. But why should I thus discompose myself?”
“It would be a good and worthy object for one girl to help another.”