“No; I have been travelling. I hope to return home to-morrow.”
Travelling! On the devil’s business, indeed.
The Baroness turned to me. “Count Furello has a most picturesque home, an ancient Monastery on an island, and in most lovely country.”
The teeth gleamed. “Scarcely on an island, gnädige Baronin,” he objected deferentially, “although practically it is so. The moat surrounding the Monastery has overflowed and enlarged itself to such an extent that the building seems to stand on an island in the midst of a lake.”
“A very charming spot,” the other lady observed.
“Is it far from here?” I asked, affecting less interest than I felt.
“About forty miles.”
I rose to take my leave. The Baroness gave me a little significant pressure of the hand, which I understood and returned.
“I should be charmed to show Herr Tyrrell the hospitality of the Geierthal, and to afford him a few days’ sport,” the Count said, a little stiffly and half-heartedly, it seemed, for the man of such exuberant politeness. “We shall have a fair amount of game; but unfortunately just now I am only at home for a day on the business of my estate. If Herr Tyrrell could honour me in perhaps a month or two’s time, it would be all that I could wish.”
“I fear I shall have resumed my travels,” I replied. “If I had been going to make a longer stay in your country, I should have been delighted.”