"I must not hear this."
"You shall hear this. His bargain with my father cannot save him, my fortune has gone like sand through his fingers, and your noble House will come very surely to utter ruin."
"You speak as if I were to blame," said Marius sombrely. "I am not my lord's monitor; what would you have me do? I have not been over contented or very much at ease this last year."
He was angry with his brother though he would not admit so much, even to himself; he half disdained the Countess, but felt that truth and justice were on her side—he was attracted by her and repelled and troubled by her presence beyond the power of speech.
"Well," she spoke more quietly. "You will go abroad again, and I am sorry, for it will leave me more utterly lonely; well, well."
Marius moved silently to the window with a heavy step and looked out on the flat houses, the dusty sunshine, the barren blue sky.
He turned again at a slight exclamation from the Countess.
Rose Lyndwood had entered; he wore riding boots, and was wrapped in a pale pink mantle; he carried his white gauntlets and a short whip; he looked at his brother and an indescribable chill fell between them.
Marius bowed formally.
"Good even," said the Earl, and glanced at his wife; "it is unusual to find you at home at this hour, madam; Marius was fortunate."