“Tell me. It is my right to know.”
“Not now; later, if you insist.”
The young Countess passed one hand over her eyes as though dazed.
“Does Sylvia know this?” she asked, in a shocked voice.
“Not yet.”
“And you are going to tell her?”
“Yes, madame.”
“This is dreadful,” she muttered.... “If I did not know you,... if I did not trust you so perfectly,... trust you with all my heart!... Oh, are you certain she must go? It frightens me; it is so strange! I have grown fond of her.... And now you say that she must go. I cannot understand—I cannot.”
“No, you cannot understand,” I repeated, gently; “but she can. It is a serious matter for Mademoiselle Elven; it could not easily be more serious. It is even perhaps a question of life or death, madame.”
“In Heaven’s name, help her, then!” she said, scarcely 356 controlling the alarm that brought a pitiful break in her voice.