"With one Madame de Marsac—known, I think, to Your Highness——"
"You must stay with me," answered Mary warmly, yet with a curious absent air of distraction. "I will take you to the other English ladies——"
She looked at her husband.
"I shall come back," she said. He gave a little nod which cut short the graceful gratitude of the Countess, and the two ladies left.
Now he was alone he seated himself near to the fire with that air of utter fatigue that was like apathy and seemed at times, when he was out of the sight of men, to overwhelm his great spirit.
He sat quite still, gazing into the fire from under drooping lids, and when Mary softly returned he did not move.
She slipped behind his chair and took the stool the opposite side of the hearth; she had put off her cloak; the firelight touched her brown dress and brown hair to a beautiful ruby warmth and gave a false rosiness to her pale face.
"I am grieved for Lady Sunderland," she said.
The Prince answered absently.
"Ah yes—I believe she is a knave like him—but they are clever, and he at least hath some root of patriotism in him."