Lily turned her head away; the tears were now rolling down her cheeks.
“That certainly must have made the horrible discovery much worse for you,” said M. Popeau sympathetically. “Did this Mr. Ponting seem at all worried or depressed, Mademoiselle?”
“No, I can’t say that he did. We had a talk when he first arrived, for the Count and Countess left me alone with him for about ten minutes. Though he said he had lost a good bit of money, he didn’t seem to mind. I remember his saying: ‘I’ve done with Monte Carlo, and I’ve got off cheap, considering!’”
She felt it was too bad that she should spoil this pleasant lunch for her two kind friends. They all made a determined effort to talk of other things, and as the time went on, Lily unconsciously began to feel better.
“And how is my friend the Countess?” asked M. Popeau suddenly. “That woman interests me; I could not tell you why, but she seems to me a remarkable person—one with a tremendous amount of will power. I would not care to have been married to her! Hercules Popeau would have been a poor little bit of wax between her strong fingers.”
The other two smiled, but he had meant what he said.
And then a feeling of loyalty to her hostess made Lily exclaim: “I think the Count is quite happy, M. Popeau. They seem devoted to one another, and just now they are extra happy——”
“Why that?” asked Captain Stuart drily.
“Because their son, who lives in Rome, is coming to pay them a visit. They simply worship him!” She added: “I’m quite looking forward to seeing him. According to the Countess, he’s a most wonderful young man! He’s a great athlete, and yet——” she hesitated, “though only twenty-seven, he did not fight. Is that not odd? His mother says he served Italy better by staying in Rome.”
“Ah, an embusqué!” exclaimed M. Popeau.