“Hardly right, Herr Lieutenant; and if you were, why, a woman can usually protect herself from persecution.”
“When the man is dangerous and unscrupulous?”
“Ah, perhaps that is different. But my case is scarcely as bad as that.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he said gravely. “Will you pardon one question, Fräulein? It is, perhaps, impertinent, but you need not answer it.”
“Yes?”
“This Count Zarka—is there any warrant for his pretension? Is he your lover?”
She was looking away, perhaps half anticipating what he would ask. For a moment or two she did not reply, then without turning she said in a low voice: “My lover? No. He never could be that—with my consent.”
Von Tressen’s face brightened. “I am glad,” he said, “for I feared.”
The path had led them back to the house, and in another moment would bring them in sight of the two men whom they could hear chatting in front of it.
“You are not offended, Fräulein, at what I am afraid must be my unwarrantable curiosity?” Von Tressen asked hurriedly, before they should turn the angle of the house and confidential talk should be at an end.