The Countess saw it, stood watching Warner, who had drawn Sister Eila's arm through his own, and was taking her out—saw Halkett and Philippa halt and draw aside to let them pass; saw the expression in Sister Eila's face as her glance met Halkett's, wavered, and passed elsewhere.
Before she and Gray had moved to close the double file, the Curé of Dreslin was unexpectedly announced, and she turned to receive him, asking him to support Gray on the other side. Always Father Chalus was a welcome guest at the Château; every house, humble or great, from Dreslin to Saïs, was honored when this dim-eyed old priest set foot across the threshold.
The dinner was lively, gay at times, and always cheerful with the excitement lent by the arrival of the army—an arrival verging closely on the dramatic, with the echoes of the cannonade still heavy among the northern forests, the evening sky still ruddy above Ausone, and the August air tainted with the odor of burning.
Through the soft candlelight servants moved silently; the Countess, with the old Curé on her right, devoted herself to him and to Gray.
As though utterly alone in the center of some vast solitude peopled only by themselves, young D'Aurès and Peggy Brooks remained conspicuously absorbed in each other and equally oblivious to everything and everybody else on earth.
"How is Ariadne?" inquired Halkett of Philippa,
"Poor dear! I have not seen her since she soiled a whisker in Jim's ultramarine!"
Sister Eila's lowered eyes were lifted; she tried to smile at Halkett.
"I saw Ariadne the other day," she said. "The cat is quite comfortable in the garden of the Golden Peach."
Halkett said lightly: