'Alas! there will be tears on many hearths,' my lady said.
'Yes. Poor Germany!' he answered. 'Poor Germany! It is a fearful thing. God forgive us who have to do with the making of war. Yet we may hope, as long as our young men show such valour and courage as some showed yesterday; and none more conspicuously than the Waldgrave Rupert.'
'I am glad,' my lady said, colouring, 'that he justified your interference on his behalf, Count Leuchtenstein. It was right that he should; and right that I should do more--ask your pardon for the miserable ingratitude of which my passion made me guilty a while ago.'
'Countess!' he cried.
'No,' she said, stopping him with a gesture full of dignity. 'You must hear me out, for now that I have confessed, we are quits. I behaved ill--so ill that I deserved a heavy punishment. You thought so--and inflicted it!'
Her voice dropped with the last words. He turned very red, and looked at her wistfully; but I suppose that he dared not draw conclusions. For he remained silent, and she resumed, more lightly.
'So Rupert did well yesterday?' she said. 'I am glad, for he will be pleased.'
'He did more than well!' Count Leuchtenstein answered, with awkward warmth. 'He distinguished himself in the face of the whole army. His courage and coolness were above praise. As we have----' The Count paused, then blundered on hastily--'quarrelled, dare I say, Countess, over him, I am anxious to make him the ground of our reconciliation also. I have formed the highest opinion of him; and I hope to advance his interests in every way.'
My lady raised her eyebrows. 'With me?' she said quaintly.
The Count fidgeted, and looked very ill at ease. 'May I speak quite plainly?' he said at last.