‘It was not of her children that I was thinking,’ he said with meaning.
Friederich Othmar turned round from his examination of the portrait.
‘My child,’ he said to Yseulte, ‘will you pardon me if I remind you that your horses have been waiting a long time, and that the matinée at Princess Hohenlohe’s will be more than half over. M. le Duc will be kind enough to excuse the hint; he is always so amiable.’
Yseulte, who was still obedient with the unquestioning submission of her childish days, rose and bade adieu to her cousin, then went to her own apartments.
Friederich Othmar turned to the Duke:
‘Shall we walk down the boulevard together?’ he suggested, whilst he thought to himself, ‘That fox shall not get at her ear if I can help it.’
While Alain de Vannes assented and they sauntered down the staircase of Othmar’s house, the Duc said with a pleasant little laugh:
‘Ah, my dear Baron, if this duel had taken place with the same results fifteen months ago my little cousin would not have been mistress here!’
‘Who knows?’ said Friederich Othmar, vaguely, with that bland indifference which was his favourite mask and weapon.