'They are babies,' said Sabran, impatiently.
'It will be time enough to settle those matters when they are old enough to be court-pages or cadets. They are Bela and Gela at present. The only real republic is childhood.'
'I am afraid Bela is the tyrannus to which all republics succumb,' said Wanda, with a smile. He is extremely autocratic in his notions, and in his family. In all his "make believe" games he is crowned.'
'He is a beautiful child,' said her cousin, and she answered, still smiling:
'Oh, yes: he is so like Réné!'
Egon Vàsàrhely turned his face from her. The dinner was somewhat dull, and the evening seemed tedious, despite the efforts of Sabran to promote conversation, and the écarté which he and his guest played together. They, were all sensible that some chord was out of tune, and glad that on the morrow a large house-party would be there to spare them a continuation of this difficult intercourse.
'Your cousin will never forgive me,' said Sabran to her when they were alone. 'I think, beside his feeling that I stand for ever between you and him there is an impatience of me as a stranger and one unworthy you.'
'You do yourself and him injustice,' she answered. 'I shall be unhappy if you and he be not friends.'
'Then unhappy you will be, my beloved. We both adore you.'
'Do not say that. He would not be here if it were so.'