The Countess with a wild gesture tore her purple gown wider open at the throat.
"I don't know—I will leave the place, I cannot endure it—why should I endure it?"
"Hush! Hush!" whispered the maid.
Her mistress stifled a little hysterical sound and again caught her companion's arm.
Swift and noiseless they descended the steps and passed under the shadows of the high rustling trees; then Honoria stopped, holding back her mistress.
"You can't run away now," she said with an air of resolution, "whatever has happened, my lady; why, you have neither mantle, nor hat, nor money—and who is to shelter you till the coach goes, here in a strange place?"
The Countess pressed her open hand to her forehead.
"I will not stay to be scorned—I will not," she cried frantically. "I am going back to my father if I have to walk; he can but murder me, and that were to be preferred to life with these!"
And she tried to press on through the low sweet shrubs.
"You are in a frenzy," said Honoria quietly, not loosening her hold. "Return home! it is madness, my lady. Consider a little."