“I have no company to-night, or I would desire you to stay,” she said. “Some time you must come. I hope you will be very successful, Monsieur le Marquis.”
The words were very formal, but as she spoke she held out her right hand. Luc took it as he formed his answer, and dropped his grave eyes from her face to her fingers.
A curious little shock of surprise and dismay brought the colour to his cheeks. On the Countess’s forefinger was a diamond ring curiously set round with points formed of sapphires—the very jewel Luc had flung at the feet of the page in the Governor’s house at Avignon, or its exact counterpart.
“Why are you silent?” she asked rather haughtily, and withdrew her hand.
“The ring you wear reminded me of another I saw in the possession of some one so different from you, Countess, that the mere connexion gave me a start.”
“Which ring?” She wore several.
“The diamond, Madame, on your first finger.”
“That is very extraordinary!” she exclaimed.
“In what way, Madame?”
She flushed now.