“Monsieur Androvsky.”
She lowered her voice.
“He is only a travelling acquaintance. I know nothing of him.”
The priest looked gently surprised and Count Anteoni blew forth a fragrant cloud of smoke.
“He seems a remarkable man,” the priest said mildly.
“Do you think so?”
She began to speak to Count Anteoni about some absurdity of Batouch, forcing her mind into a light and frivolous mood, and he echoed her tone with a clever obedience for which secretly she blessed him. In a moment they were laughing together with apparent merriment, and Father Roubier smiled innocently at their light-heartedness, believing in it sincerely. But Androvsky suddenly turned around with a dark and morose countenance.
“Come in out of the sunshine,” said the Count. “It is too strong. Try this chair. Coffee will be—ah, here it is!”
Two servants appeared, carrying it.
“Thank you, Monsieur,” Androvsky said with reluctant courtesy.