He went up to his chamber and sat down to think. He would write a note to Lorraine; he had never done such a thing, and he hoped she might not find fault with him.
He tossed his riding-crop on to the desk, picked up a pen, and wrote carefully, ending the single page with, "It is reported that Uhlans have been encountered in the direction of Saarbrück, and, although I do not believe it, I shall go there to-morrow and see for myself. I will be back within the twelve hours. May I ride over to tell you about these mythical Uhlans when I return?"
He called a groom and bade him drive to the Château de Nesville with the note. Then he went down to sit with the old vicomte and Madame de Morteyn until it came dinner-time, and the oil-lamps in the gilded salon were lighted, and the candles blazed up on either side of the gilt French clock.
After dinner he played chess with his uncle until the old man fell asleep in his chair. There was an interval of silence.
"Jack," said his aunt, "you are a dear, good boy. Tell me, do you love our little Lorraine?"
The suddenness of the question struck him dumb. His aunt smiled; her faded eyes were very tender and kindly, and she laid both frail hands on his shoulders.
"It is my wish," she said, in a low voice; "remember that, Jack. Now go and walk on the terrace, for she will surely answer your note."
"How—how did you know I wrote her?" he stammered.
"When a young man sends his aunt's servants on such very unorthodox errands, what can he expect, especially when those servants are faithful?"
"That groom told you, Aunt Helen?"