After standing in astonishment for a moment, Vera dressed quickly and went to the husband of Lise Barineff.
He was looking through the newspapers, perhaps to distract his thoughts from the interview he had just had with his wife, perhaps, too, to hide his face. One of the sub-managers was standing at the door of the room, waiting for the order to serve the meal.
At the entrance of his traveling companion, Pierre Olsdorf rose, went forward to meet her, and said gallantly, offering his hand:
"Good-morning, dear child. How have you slept?"
Thinking she must have misunderstood what she had heard, the farmer's daughter looked round the room in surprise. There was nobody there but herself and the manager, who still stood motionless. It was she, after all, that the prince was speaking to.
Bending forward over the hand that was offered to her, Vera wished to press her lips to it, but Pierre Olsdorf, drawing her gently toward him, kissed her forehead, and said, pointing to the table laid for two:
"Has the journey made you lose your appetite?"
He drew her arm affectionately under his to lead her to the table, where she fell into, rather than seated herself on, the chair Yvan offered her.
Vera Soublaieff had never been more beautiful in her national costume. Emotion had given a more brilliant color to her face; her scarlet lips wore a childish smile full of charm, and her big eyes, with their long black lashes, seemed to question with simple trouble all that surrounded her.
She well remembered that the prince had always been gentle and kind to her, as he was to all his servants, but she had never sat at his table, and he had never paid her such attentions as these.