He walked a few paces in silence.
“I think you are younger than you profess to be,” he said, at last.
“I wish I were!” she answered, fervently. “Alas, alas! it’s no use wishing. I cannot ‘go like a crab, backwards.’ Though just now I feel like a mere kiddie, ready to run all over these exquisite gardens and look at everything, and find out all the prettiest nooks and corners. What a beautiful place this is!—and how fortunate I am to have found favour in your eyes! It will be perfect happiness for me just to live here!”
Dimitrius looked pleased.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said—and taking a key from his pocket, he handed it to her. “Here we are coming to the border of the lake, and you can go on alone. Follow the private path till you come to a gate which this key will open—then turn to the left, up a little winding flight of steps, under trees—this will bring you out to the high road. I suppose you know the way to your hotel when you are once in the town?”
“Yes,—and I shall know my way back again to the Château this afternoon,” she assured him. “It’s kind of you to have come thus far with me. You are breaking your morning’s work.”
He smiled. “My morning’s work can wait,” he said. “In fact, most of my work must wait—till you come!”
With these words he raised his hat in courteous salutation and left her, turning back through his grounds—while she went on her way swiftly and alone.
CHAPTER VIII
Arrived at her hotel, Diana gave notice that she was leaving that afternoon. Then she packed up her one portmanteau and sent it by a porter to the station, with instructions to deposit it in the “Salle des Bagages,” to await her there. He carried out this order, and brought the printed number entitling her to claim her belongings at her convenience.