'You think so? You do not know yourself if you imagine that.'
'Egon is very loyal. He would not come here if he could not greet you honestly.'
Sabran's face flushed a little, and he turned away. He vaguely dreaded the advent of Egon Vàsàrhely, and there were so many innocent words uttered in the carelessness of intimate intercourse which stabbed him to the quick; she had so wounded him all unconscious of her act.
'Shall we have a game of billiards?' he asked her as they stood in the Rittersaal, whilst the rain fell fast without. She played billiards well, and could hold her own against him, though his game was one that had often been watched by a crowded galerie in Paris with eager speculation and heavy wager. An hour afterwards they were still playing when the clang of a great bell announced the approach of the carriage which had been sent to Windisch-Matrey.
'Come!' she said joyously, as she put back her cue in its rest; but Sabran drew back.
'Receive your cousin first alone,' he said. 'He must resent my presence here. I will not force it on him on the threshold of your house.'
'Of our house! Why will you use wrong pronouns? Believe me, dear, Egon is too generous to bear you the animosity you think.'
'Then he never loved you,' said Sabran, somewhat impatiently, as he sent one ball against another with a sharp collision. 'I will come if you wish it,' he added; 'but I think it is not in the best taste to so assert myself.'
'Egon is only my cousin and your guest. You are the master of Hohenszalras. Come! you were not so difficult when you received the Emperor.'
'I had done the Emperor no wrong,' said Sabran, controlling the impatience and the reluctance he still felt.