‘And that other place was ——?’ persisted the Count, who felt that her intrusion on his privacy gave him a right to cross-question her.
The Countess was puzzled how to reply. She had no idea what place she was making for.
‘That I don’t know,’ she said at last, with no little embarrassment.
‘You will permit me to say that you seem to have no adequate reason to allege for this unwarrantable occupation of my room; and what little you tell me certainly in no way inclines me to take a favourable view of the affair.’
The Countess was once more stung by the manner in which he seemed to view her journey, and feeling bound to clear herself, she replied:
‘If you only knew what my journey is about, you would not speak so!’ and she burst into a flood of tears.
Softened by her distress, the Count said in a kinder tone:
‘Had you been pleased to confide that to me at first, maybe I had not spoken so; but till you tell me what it is, what opinion can I form?’
‘This is it,’ answered the Countess, still sobbing. ‘Yesterday I was the happiest woman on the face of the earth, living in love and confidence with the best husband with whom woman was ever blessed. So strong was my confidence that I hesitated not to trifle with this great happiness. My brother came home from the wars, a stranger to my husband. “Let him see you kiss me,” I said, “it will seem so strange that we will make him laugh heartily afterwards.” He saw him kiss me, but waited for no explanation. He went away without a word, as indeed (fool that I was) I well deserved, and I journey on till I overtake him.’
The Count had risen to his feet, and had torn the veil from her face.