At the other end of the conservatory she is doing her best to regain her composure and to keep back the tears, when suddenly she hears a light manly tread near her and the clinking of glasses.
"Ah! 'tis Binsky: he has found me," Stella thinks, most unjustly provoked with the good-humoured attaché.
"I really believe, Baroness, you are playing hide-and-seek with me," the young diplomatist addresses her in a tone of mild reproof.
There is nothing for it but to turn round. Beside the attaché, in all the majestic gravity of his kind, stands a lackey with a salver, from which she takes a glass of lemonade.
After the servant has withdrawn, Count Binsky says, with a laugh, "I have been looking for you, Baroness, in every corner of the conservatory. I must confess to having made interesting discoveries during my wanderings. Look here,"--and he shows her a white ostrich-feather fan with yellow tortoise-shell sticks broken in two,"--I found this relic in the pretty little boudoir near the place where I left you. Now, did you ever see anything so mutely eloquent as this broken fan?--the tragic culmination of a highly dramatic scene! I should like to know what lady had the desperate energy to reduce this exquisite trifle to such a state."
"Perhaps there is a monogram on the fan," says Stella, her pale face suddenly becoming animated. "Look and see."
"To be sure. I did not think of that," the young man replies, examining the fan. "'S. O.' beneath a coronet."
"Sophie Oblonsky," says Stella.
"Of course,--the Oblonsky." The attaché is seized with a fit of merriment on the instant. "The Oblonsky,--the woman who had an affair with Rohritz long ago. She seemed to me this evening to have a strong desire to throw her chains about him afresh, but"--with a significant glance at the fan--"Rohritz evidently had no inclination to gratify her. Hm! she must have been in a bad humour,--the worthy Princess!" The attaché laughs softly to himself, then suddenly assumes a grave, composed air, remembering that he is with a young girl, before whom such things as he has alluded to should be forbidden subjects and his merriment suppressed. He glances at Stella. No need to worry himself; she does not look in the least horrified: her white teeth just show between her red lips, merry dimples play about the corners of her mouth, and her eyes sparkle like black stars.