“Au revoir, Monsieur,” he said to the captain. Their eyes met; they smiled faintly and parted.
M. d’Espagnac walked rapidly and lightly towards the main door of the cathedral. He noticed now that it was very cold, with an intense, clinging chill. He paused to arrange his mantle before facing the outer air, and as he did so, saw suddenly before him a figure like his own in a heavy military cloak.
The first second he was confused, the next he recognized the Polish lady he had lately seen in the Vladislav Hall.
He voiced his instinctive thought.
“Why, Madame, I did not hear the door!”
“No,” she answered. “Did you not know that there was a secret passage from the palace?” She added instantly—
“What is the name of your companion, Monsieur?”
He glanced where she glanced, at the slight figure of the young captain standing by the bronze gates of the Wenceslas Chapel. He felt a shyness in answering her; her manner was abrupt, and she seemed to him an intruder in the church that had inspired such a religious mood in him. She evidently instantly perceived this, for she said, with direct haughtiness—
“I am the Countess Carola Koklinska.”
M. d’Espagnac bowed and flushed. He gave his own name swiftly.