'Your cousin cannot be said to contribute to the gaiety of your house parties, my love,' Sabran observed with a smile one day, when they received the announcement of an intended visit from one of the archdukes. Egon Vàsàrhely was still there, and even his cousin, much as she longed for his departure, could not openly urge it upon him; relationship and hospitality alike forbade.
'He is sadly changed,' she answered. 'He was always silent, but he is now morose. Perhaps he lives too much at Taróc, where all is very wild and solitary.'
'He lives too much in your memory,' said Sabran, with no compassion. 'Could he determine to forgive my marriage with you, there would be a chance for him to recover his peace of mind. Only, my Wanda, it is not possible for any man to be consoled for the loss of you.'
'But that is nothing new,' she answered, with impatience. 'If he felt so strongly against you, why did he come here? It was not like his high, chivalrous honour.'
'Perhaps he came with the frank will to be reconciled to his fate,' said Sabran, not knowing how closely he struck the truth, 'and at the sight of you, of all that he lost and that I gained, he cannot keep his resolution.'
'Then he should go away,' she said, with that indifference to all others save the one beloved which all love begets.
'I think he should. But who can tell him so?'
'I did myself the other day. I shall tell him so more plainly, if needful. Who cannot honour you shall be no friend of mine, no guest of ours.'
'Oh, my love!' said Sabran, whose conscience was touched. 'Do not have feud with your relatives for my sake. They are worthier than I.'
The Archduke, with his wife, arrived there on the following day, and Hohenszalras was gorgeous in the September sun, with all the pomp with which the lords of it had always welcomed their Imperial friends. Vàsàrhely looked on as a spectator at a play when he watched its present master receive the Imperial Prince with that supreme ease, grace, and dignity which were so admirably blent in him.