"He is capable, in his present mood, of doing anything rash," murmured the baroness, with an expression of terror in her eyes.
"And I am capable of an equally rash act," responded the count.
"I believe it; I have heard of such courage before. But you must not forget that you do not belong to yourself; there is some one else you must think of before you risk your life."
Count Vavel started violently; he opened his lips as if to speak, but the baroness quickly raised her hand and interposed.
"I am not trying to pry into your secret, Herr Count; I am no spy—you must have seen that ere this. All I know is that there is under your protection a woman to whom you are everything, and who will have no one should she lose you."
"But what can I do?" in desperation exclaimed Count Vavel. "I cannot hide in my castle until Colonel Barthelmy leaves the neighborhood. Would you have me confess to all the world that I am a coward?"
"Let me advise you, Herr Count," with sudden resolution responded the baroness. "Turn this matter, which you look upon as a tragedy, into a capital jest. Take me to drive with you to-day instead of your—friend."
Count Vavel suddenly burst into a loud laugh—from extreme anger to unrestrained merriment.
But the baroness did not laugh with him.
"I am in earnest, Count Vavel. Now you will understand why I came here this morning." She drew her veil over her face, and asked: "Am I enough like her to take her place in the carriage?"