"Tea," repeated the countess, who now realized her exhaustion, "that would be refreshing, but I don't know how to get it, I sent the maid away."
"Yes, I met the dismissed couple in a state of utter despair. And I can imagine that my worshipped Countess Madeleine--the most pampered and spoiled of all the children of fortune and the fashionable world--does not know how to help herself. I am by no means sorry, for I shall profit by it. I can now pose as a kind Providence. What good luck for a lover! is it not? So permit me to supply the maid's place--so far as this is practicable. I have tea with me and my valet whom, thank Heaven, I was not obliged to send away, is waiting your order to serve it."
"How kind you are, Prince. But consider that kitchen filled with flies."
"Oh, you need not feel uncomfortable on that score. You are evidently unused to the mountains. I know these flies, they are different from our city ones and possess a peculiar skill in keeping out of food. Try it for once."
"Yes, but we must first ascertain whether I can get the other room," said the countess, again lapsing into despondency.
"My dearest Countess, does that prevent our taking any refreshment? Don't be so spiritless," said the prince laughing.
"Oh, it's all very well to laugh. The situation is tragical enough, I assure you."
"Tragical enough to pay for the trouble of developing a certain grandeur of soul, but not, in true womanly fashion, to lose all composure."
The prince shook the ashes from his cigarette and went to the door to order the valet to serve the tea. When he returned, the countess suddenly came to meet him, held out her hand, and said with a bewitching smile:
"Prince, you are charming to-day, and I am unbearable. I thank you for the patience you have shown."