The music had begun again, and the seductive strains of a valse floated out towards them. The waves, as they broke at regular intervals upon the beach, seemed to beat time to the melody, and the seething foam rushing backwards on the pebbles added a refrain. A sense of unreality affected the little Countess as she listened; it seemed almost as if she were living the past over again. She had had acquaintance with the man beside her for at least three years, but she had never liked him so well as at this moment. Perhaps it was because she saw him in a new light, and felt the undoubted fascination of his virile personality. She forgot the many stories she had heard of his despotic dealings, forgot altogether his hatred of the Jews. She remembered only that he was a great man, and that he had come to her for sympathy. Was it a wonder that her small features glowed with pride!
“I will marry you because you want me,” she said, in a gentle voice at last, “and I will try and do my duty to your motherless girl, as I hope you will to my fatherless boy. But you will be good to me, won’t you, Athelstan?” she added, almost wistfully. “You will be our protector—Leslie’s and mine?”
He raised her hand to his lips.
“It will be my first care to protect you,” he replied, well pleased, although he had known all along that she would consent. And he decided that the marriage should take place in six weeks’ time; there was no occasion for a further delay.
It was getting cold, and Mamie suggested an adjournment within. They repassed the young man on their way, still unconcernedly smoking his cigar. The Princess watched their return, but failed to deduce from their manner what had happened. Before retiring to rest, however, she presented herself in her sister’s apartment. She was curious to know the result.
Mamie was sitting in front of her dressing-table shedding tears—though whether of joy or sadness she did not herself know. She felt as though she had just come through an ordeal, which, paradoxically, had not been an ordeal after all. She dried her eyes hastily, declaring that she was a goose; to which statement her sister unhesitatingly agreed.
Mamie pushed back her chair, and regarded her with an unnecessary expression of defiance.
“Well, it’s all settled,” she said carelessly. “I am just going to write to Poppa. We shall be married on the 10th of February if the fates propend.”
The Princess gave her a sisterly kiss.
“I suppose you know your own business best, so I will congratulate you,” she remarked. “Did you keep your promise to Patricia and impose some condition about the Jews?”