"In my brother's country, which is Russia, we are not secure of what is our own, even for a day. We may well pray there for our daily bread. In Russia we learn the meaning of the Lord's Prayer."
"But have you not," I asked, "great possessions in Italy?"
"I have," the Countess said, "an estate here that is my own, and many anxieties therewith. Also I have, at present, the command of wealth—which I have never yet seen bring happiness. But for all, I would that I dwelt on the wide moors and baked my own bread."
I did not contradict her, seeing that her heart was set on such things; nevertheless, I knew better than she.
"You do not believe!" she said suddenly, for I think from the first she read my heart like a printed book. "You do not understand! Well, I do not ask you to believe. You do not know me yet, though I know you. Some day you will have proof!"
"I believe everything you tell me," I answered fervently.
"Remember," she said, lifting a finger at me—"only enough and not too much. Tell me what is your idea of the place where I could be happy."
This I could answer, for I had thought of it.
"In a town of clear rivers and marble palaces," I answered, "where there are brave knights to escort fair ladies and save them from harm. In a city where to be a woman is to be honoured, and to be young is to be loved."
"And you, young seer, that are of the moorland and the heather," she said, "where would you be in such a city?"