When her spouse pressed his moist moustache to her lips, she made a grimace. He was overjoyed at her return. The duke's guests and attendants welcomed the returned duchess, each in their own fashion; the former pressed their lips to her hand; the latter kissed the hem of her robe. I did not want my first meeting with her grace to take place in the presence of the entire household; but the duke called me from the hall, where I had withdrawn, and said:
"See here, my love, who is this? Look at him, and tell me if you recognize the lad?"
I was afraid to meet the glance which scrutinized my features—I felt that I should be compelled to blurt out:
"I am Baran, gunner of the haidemaken."
"You don't recognize him, do you?" again said the duke. "I knew you wouldn't. 'Tis our long absent comrade Zdenko Kochanovszki."
For one single instant I saw into that woman's soul. At mention of my name, a sudden light leapt into her eyes—a world of passion flamed for one brief instant.
Her husband had not seen it, only I. Then the beautiful eyes became cold again, and indifferent, and the queenly head was gravely bent in recognition of an old acquaintance, the slender fingers were extended for the formal kiss of greeting.
She did not vouchsafe another glance toward me, but turned toward the duke, laid her hand on his arm, and said with sudden friendliness:
"Comment vous portez-vous, mon petit drôle?"
Although her grace took no further notice of me, I saw my way clear for the future.