ashamedof
the
way
he
is
spending
his
life
,
and
he
hates
the
people
who
see
him
doing
it
!
It
is
shameful
to
be
so
idle
.
A
strong
young
man
doing
nothing
,
living
on
charity
,
so
they
say
!
And
he
despises
all
those
who
do
what
he
himself
is
not
ashamed
to
do
.
"
And
Sylvia
,
looking
across
at
her
,
said
to
herself
with
a
heavy
sigh
that
this
was
true
.
Madame
Wachner
had
summed
up
Count
Paul
very
accurately
.
At
last
there
came
the
sound
of
a
carriage
in
the
quiet
lane
outside
.
"
Fritz
!
Go
and
see
if
that
is
the
carriage
I
ordered
to
come
here
at
nine
o'clock
,
"
said
his
wife
sharply
;
and
then
,
as
he
got
up
silently
to
obey
her
,
she
followed
him
out
into
the
passage
,
and
Sylvia
,
who
had
very
quick
ears
,
heard
her
say
,
in
low
,
vehement
tones
,
"
I
work
and
work
and
work
,
but
you
do
nothing
!
Do
try
and
help
me
—
it
is
for
your
sake
I
am
taking
all
this
trouble
!
"
What
could
these
odd
words
mean
?
At
what
was
Madame
Wachner
working
?
A
sudden
feeling
of
discomfort
came
over
Sylvia
.
Then
the
stout
,
jolly-looking
woman
was
not
without
private
anxieties
and
cares
?
There
had
been
something
so
weary
as
well
as
so
angry
in
the
tone
in
which
Madame
Wachner
spoke
to
her
beloved
"
Ami
Fritz
.
"
A
moment
later
he
was
hurrying
towards
the
gate
.
"
Sophie
,
"
he
cried
out
from
the
garden
,
"
the
carriage
is
here
!
Come
along
—
we
have
wasted
too
much
time
already
—
"
Like
Anna
Wolsky
,
Monsieur
Wachner
grudged
every
moment
spent
away
from
the
tables
.
Madame
Wachner
hurried
her
two
guests
into
her
bed-room
to
put
on
their
hats
.
Anna
Wolsky
walked
over
to
the
window
.
"
What
a
strange
,
lonely
place
to
live
in
!
"
she
said
,
and
drew
the
lace
shawl
she
was
wearing
a
little
more
closely
about
her
thin
shoulders
.
"
And
that
wood
over
there
—
I
should
be
afraid
to
live
so
near
a
wood
!
I
should
think
that
there
might
be
queer
people
concealed
there
.
"
"
Bah
!
Why
should
we
be
frightened
,
even
if
there
were
queer
people
there
!
"
"
Well
,
but
sometimes
you
must
have
a
good
deal
of
money
in
this
house
.
"
Madame
Wachner
laughed
.
"
When
we
have
so
much
money
that
we
cannot
carry
it
about
,
and
that
,
alas
!
is
not
very
often
—
but
still
,
when
Fritz
makes
a
big
win
,
we
go
into
Paris
and
bank
the
money
.
"
"
I
do
not
trouble
to
do
that
,
"
said
Anna
,
"
for
I
always
carry
all
my
money
about
with
me
.
What
do
you
do
?
"
she
turned
to
Sylvia
Bailey
.
"
I
leave
it
in
my
trunk
at
the
hotel
,
"
said
Sylvia
.
"
The
servants
at
the
Villa
du
Lac
seem
to
be
perfectly
honest
—
in
fact
they
are
mostly
related
to
the
proprietor
,
M
.
Polperro
.
"
"
Oh
,
but
that
is
quite
wrong
!
"
exclaimed
Madame
Wachner
,
eagerly
.
"
You
should
never
leave
your
money
in
the
hotel
;
you
should
always
carry
it
about
with
you
—
in
little
bags
like
this
.
See
!
"
Again
she
suddenly
lifted
the
light
alpaca
skirt
she
was
wearing
,
as
she
had
done
before
,
in
this
very
room
,
on
the
occasion
of
Sylvia
's
first
visit
to
the
Châlet
.
"
That
is
the
way
to
carry
money
in
a
place
like
this
!
"
she
said
,
smiling
.
"
But
now
hurry
,
or
all
our
evening
will
be
gone
!
"
They
left
the
house
,
and
hastened
down
the
garden
to
the
gate
,
where
L'Ami
Fritz
received
his
wife
with
a
grumbling
complaint
that
they
had
been
so
long
.
And
he
was
right
,
for
the
Casino
was
very
full
.
Sylvia
made
no
attempt
to
play
.
Somehow
she
did
not
care
for
the
Club
when
Count
Paul
was
not
there
.
She
was
glad
when
she
was
at
last
able
to
leave
the
others
for
the
Villa
du
Lac
.
Anna
Wolsky
accompanied
her
friend
to
the
entrance
of
the
Casino
.
The
Comte
de
Virieu
was
just
coming
in
as
Sylvia
went
out
;
bowing
distantly
to
the
two
ladies
,
he
hurried
through
the
vestibule
towards
the
Club
.
Sylvia
's
heart
sank
.
Not
even
after
spending
a
day
with
his
beloved
sister
could
he
resist
the
lure
of
play
!
CHAPTER
XI
During
much
of
the
night
that
followed
Sylvia
lay
awake
,
her
mind
full
of
the
Comte
de
Virieu
,
and
of
the
strange
friendship
which
had
sprung
up
between
them
.
Their
brief
meeting
at
the
door
of
the
Casino
had
affected
her
very
painfully
.
As
he
had
passed
her
with
a
distant
bow
,
a
look
of
shame
,
of
miserable
unease
,
had
come
over
Count
Paul
's
face
.
Yes
,
Madame
Wachner
had
summed
him
up
very
shrewdly
,
if
unkindly
.
He
was
ashamed
,
not
only
of
the
way
in
which
he
was
wasting
his
life
,
but
also
of
the
company
into
which
his
indulgence
of
his
vice
of
gambling
brought
him
.
And
Sylvia
—
it
was
a
bitter
thought
—
was
of
that
company
.
That
fact
must
be
faced
by
her
.
True
,
she
was
not
a
gambler
in
the
sense
that
most
of
the
people
she
met
and
saw
daily
at
the
Casino
were
gamblers
,
but
that
was
simply
because
the
passion
of
play
did
not
absorb
her
as
it
did
them
.
It
was
her
good
fortune
,
not
any
virtue
in
herself
,
that
set
her
apart
from
Anna
Wolsky
.
And
now
she
asked
herself
—
or
rather
her
conscience
asked
her
—
whether
she
would
not
do
well
to
leave
Lacville
;
to
break
off
this
strange
and
—
yes
,
this
dangerous
intimacy
with
a
man
of
whom
she
knew
so
very
little
,
apart
from
the
great
outstanding
fact
that
he
was
a
confirmed
gambler
,
and
that
he
had
given
up
all
that
makes
life
worth
living
to
such
a
man
as
he
,
in
order
to
drag
on
a
dishonoured
,
purposeless
life
at
one
or
other
of
the
great
gambling
centres
of
the
civilised
world
?
And
yet
the
thought
of
going
away
from
Lacville
was
already
intolerable
to
Sylvia
.
There
had
arisen
between
the
Frenchman
and
herself
a
kind
of
close
,
wordless
understanding
and
sympathy
which
she
,
at
any
rate
,
still
called
"
friendship
.
"
But
she
would
probably
have
assented
to
Meredith
's
words
,
"
Friendship
,
I
fancy
,
means
one
heart
between
two
.
"
At
last
she
fell
into
a
troubled
sleep
,
and
dreamt
a
disturbing
dream
.
She
found
herself
wandering
about
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
,
trying
to
find
a
way
out
of
the
locked
and
shuttered
building
.
The
ugly
little
rooms
were
empty
.
It
was
winter
,
and
she
was
shivering
with
cold
.
Someone
must
have
locked
her
in
by
mistake
.
She
had
been
forgotten
...
.
"
Toc
,
toc
,
toc
!
"
at
the
door
.
And
Sylvia
sat
up
in
bed
relieved
of
her
nightmare
.
It
was
eight
o'clock
!
She
had
overslept
herself
.
Félicie
was
bringing
in
her
tea
,
and
on
the
tray
lay
a
letter
addressed
in
a
handwriting
Sylvia
did
not
know
,
and
on
which
was
a
French
stamp
.
She
turned
the
pale-grey
envelope
over
doubtfully
,
wondering
if
it
was
really
meant
for
her
.
But
yes
—
of
that
there
could
be
no
doubt
,
for
it
was
addressed
,
"
Madame
Bailey
,
Villa
du
Lac
,
Lacville-les-Bains
.
"
She
opened
it
to
find
that
the
note
contained
a
gracefully-worded
invitation
to
déjeuner
for
the
next
day
,
and
the
signature
ran
—
"
Marie-Anne
d'Eglemont
.
"
Why
,
it
must
be
Paul
de
Virieu
's
sister
!
How
very
kind
of
her
,
and
—
and
how
very
kind
of
him
.
The
letter
must
have
been
actually
written
when
Count
Paul
was
in
Paris
with
his
sister
—
and
yet
,
when
they
had
passed
one
another
the
evening
before
,
he
had
bowed
as
distantly
,
as
coldly
,
as
he
might
have
done
to
the
most
casual
of
acquaintances
.
Sylvia
got
up
,
filled
with
a
tumult
of
excited
feeling
which
this
simple
invitation
to
luncheon
scarcely
warranted
.
But
Paul
de
Virieu
came
in
from
his
ride
also
eager
,
excited
,
smiling
.
"
Have
you
received
a
note
from
my
sister
?
"
he
asked
,
hurrying
towards
her
in
the
dining-room
which
they
now
had
to
themselves
each
morning
.
"
When
I
told
her
how
you
and
I
had
become
"
—
he
hesitated
a
moment
,
and
then
added
the
words
,
"
good
friends
,
she
said
how
much
she
would
like
to
meet
you
.
I
know
that
you
and
my
dear
Marie-Anne
would
like
one
another
—
"
"
It
is
very
kind
of
your
sister
to
ask
me
to
come
and
see
her
,
"
said
Sylvia
,
a
little
stiffly
.
"
I
am
going
back
to
Paris
this
evening
,
"
he
went
on
,
"
to
stay
with
my
sister
for
a
couple
of
nights
.
So
if
you
can
come
to-morrow
to
lunch
,
as
I
think
my
sister
has
asked
you
to
do
,
I
will
meet
you
at
the
station
.
"
After
breakfast
they
went
out
into
the
garden
,
and
when
they
were
free
of
the
house
Count
Paul
said
suddenly
,
"
I
told
Marie-Anne
that
you
were
fond
of
riding
,
and
,
with
your
permission
,
she
proposes
to
send
over
a
horse
for
you
every
morning
.
And
,
Madame
—
forgive
me
—
but
I
told
her
I
feared
you
had
no
riding
habit
!
You
and
she
,
however
,
are
much
the
same
height
,
and
she
thinks
that
she
might
be
able
to
lend
you
one
if
you
will
honour
her
by
accepting
the
loan
of
it
during
the
time
you
are
at
Lacville
.
"
Sylvia
was
bewildered
,
she
scarcely
knew
how
to
accept
so
much
kindness
.
"
If
you
will
write
a
line
to
my
sister
some
time
to-day
,
"
continued
the
Count
,
"
I
will
be
the
bearer
of
your
letter
.
"
That
day
marked
a
very
great
advance
in
the
friendship
of
Sylvia
Bailey
and
Paul
de
Virieu
.
Till
that
day
,
much
as
he
had
talked
to
her
about
himself
and
his
life
,
and
the
many
curious
adventures
he
had
had
,
for
he
had
travelled
a
great
deal
,
and
was
a
cultivated
man
,
he
had
very
seldom
spoken
to
her
of
his
relations
.
But
to-day
he
told
her
a
great
deal
about
them
,
and
she
found
herself
taking
a
very
keen
,
intimate
interest
in
this
group
of
French
people
whom
she
had
never
seen
—
whom
,
perhaps
,
with
one
exception
,
she
never
would
see
.
How
unlike
English
folk
they
must
be
—
these
relations
of
Count
Paul
!
For
the
matter
of
that
,
how
unlike
any
people
Sylvia
had
ever
seen
or
heard
of
.
First
,
he
told
her
of
the
sweet-natured
,
pious
young
duchess
who
was
to
be
her
hostess
on
the
morrow
—
the
sister
whom
Paul
loved
so
dearly
,
and
to
whom
he
owed
so
much
.
Then
he
described
,
in
less
kindly
terms
,
her
proud
narrow-minded
,
if
generous
,
husband
,
the
French
duke
who
still
lived
—
thanks
to
the
fact
that
his
grandmother
had
been
the
daughter
of
a
great
Russian
banker
—
much
as
must
have
lived
the
nobles
in
the
Middle
Ages
—
apart
,
that
is
,
from
everything
that
would
remind
him
that
there
was
anything
in
the
world
of
which
he
disapproved
or
which
he
disliked
.
The
Duc
d'Eglemont
ignored
the
fact
that
France
was
a
Republic
;
he
still
talked
of
"
the
King
,
"
and
went
periodically
into
waiting
on
the
Duke
of
Orleans
.
Count
Paul
also
told
Sylvia
of
his
great-uncle
and
godfather
,
the
Cardinal
,
who
lived
in
Italy
,
and
who
had
—
or
so
his
family
liked
to
believe
—
so
nearly
become
Pope
.
Then
there
were
his
three
old
maiden
great-aunts
,
who
had
all
desired
to
be
nuns
,
but
who
apparently
had
not
had
the
courage
to
do
so
when
it
came
to
the
point
.
They
dwelt
together
in
a
remote
Burgundian
château
,
and
they
each
spent
an
hour
daily
in
their
chapel
praying
that
their
dear
nephew
Paul
might
be
rescued
from
the
evils
of
play
.
And
as
Paul
de
Virieu
told
Sylvia
Bailey
of
all
these
curious
old-world
folk
of
his
,
Sylvia
wondered
more
and
more
why
he
led
the
kind
of
existence
he
was
leading
now
.
For
the
first
time
since
Sylvia
had
come
to
Lacville
,
neither
she
nor
Count
Paul
spent
any
part
of
that
afternoon
at
the
Casino
.
They
were
both
at
that
happy
stage
of
—
shall
we
say
friendship
?
—
when
a
man
and
a
woman
cannot
see
too
much
of
one
another
;
when
time
is
as
if
it
were
not
;
when
nothing
said
or
done
can
be
wrong
in
the
other
's
sight
;
when
Love
is
still
a
soft
and
an
invisible
presence
,
with
naught
about
him
of
the
exacting
tyrant
he
will
so
soon
become
.
Count
Paul
postponed
his
departure
for
Paris
till
after
dinner
,
and
not
till
she
went
up
to
dress
did
Sylvia
sit
down
to
write
her
answer
to
the
Duchesse
d'Eglemont
.
For
a
long
while
she
held
her
pen
in
her
hand
.
How
was
she
to
address
Paul
de
Virieu
's
sister
?
Must
she
call
her
"
Dear
Madame
"
?
Should
she
call
her
"
Dear
Duchesse
"
?
It
was
really
an
unimportant
matter
,
but
it
appeared
very
important
to
Sylvia
Bailey
.
She
was
exceedingly
anxious
not
to
commit
any
social
solecism
.
And
then
,
while
she
was
still
hesitating
,
still
sitting
with
the
pen
poised
in
her
hand
,
there
came
a
knock
at
the
door
.
The
maid
handed
her
a
note
;
it
was
from
Count
Paul
,
the
first
letter
he
had
ever
written
to
her
.
"
Madame
,
"
—
so
ran
the
note
—
"
it
occurs
to
me
that
you
might
like
to
answer
my
sister
in
French
,
and
so
I
venture
to
send
you
the
sort
of
letter
that
you
might
perhaps
care
to
write
.
Each
country
has
its
own
usages
in
these
matters
—
that
must
be
my
excuse
for
my
apparent
impertinence
.
"
And
then
there
followed
a
prettily-turned
little
epistle
which
Sylvia
copied
,
feeling
perhaps
a
deeper
gratitude
than
a
far
greater
service
would
have
won
him
from
her
.
CHAPTER
XII
A
couple
of
hours
later
Sylvia
and
Count
Paul
parted
at
the
door
of
the
Casino
.
He
held
her
hand
longer
than
was
usual
with
him
when
bidding
her
good-night
;
then
,
dropping
it
,
he
lifted
his
hat
and
hurried
off
towards
the
station
.
Sylvia
stood
in
the
dusk
and
looked
after
him
till
a
turn
in
the
short
road
hid
his
hurrying
figure
from
her
sight
.
She
felt
very
much
moved
,
touched
to
the
core
of
her
heart
.
She
knew
just
as
well
as
if
he
had
told
her
why
the
Comte
de
Virieu
had
given
up
his
evening
's
play
to-night
.
He
had
left
Lacville
,
and
arranged
to
meet
her
in
Paris
the
next
day
,
in
order
that
their
names
might
not
be
coupled
—
as
would
have
certainly
been
the
case
if
they
had
travelled
together
into
Paris
the
next
morning
—
by
M
.
Polperro
and
the
good-natured
,
but
rather
vulgar
Wachners
.
As
she
turned
and
walked
slowly
through
the
Casino
,
moving
as
in
a
dream
,
Sylvia
suddenly
felt
herself
smartly
tapped
on
the
shoulder
.
She
turned
round
quickly
—
then
she
smiled
.
It
was
Madame
Wachner
.
"
Why
'
ave
you
not
come
before
?
"
her
friend
exclaimed
.
"
Madame
Wolsky
is
making
such
a
sensation
!
Come
quick
—
quick
!
"
and
she
hurried
the
unresisting
Sylvia
towards
the
Club
rooms
.
"
I
come
downstairs
to
see
if
I
could
find
you
,
"
went
on
Madame
Wachner
breathlessly
.
What
could
be
happening
?
Sylvia
felt
the
other
's
excitement
to
be
contagious
.
As
she
entered
the
gambling
room
she
saw
that
a
large
crowd
was
gathered
round
the
centre
Baccarat
table
.
"
A
party
of
young
men
out
from
Paris
,
"
explained
Madame
Wachner
in
a
low
tone
,
"
are
throwing
about
their
money
.
It
might
have
been
terrible
.
But
no
,
it
is
a
great
piece
of
good
fortune
for
Madame
Wolsky
!
"
And
still
Sylvia
did
not
understand
.
They
walked
together
up
to
the
table
,
and
then
,
with
amazement
and
a
curious
feeling
of
fear
clutching
at
her
heart
,
Sylvia
Bailey
saw
that
Anna
Wolsky
was
holding
the
Bank
.
It
was
the
first
time
she
had
ever
seen
a
lady
in
the
Banker
's
seat
.
A
thick
bundle
of
notes
,
on
which
were
arranged
symmetrical
piles
of
gold
lay
in
front
of
Madame
Wolsky
,
and
as
was
always
the
case
when
she
was
really
excited
,
Anna
's
face
had
become
very
pale
,
and
her
eyes
glistened
feverishly
.
The
play
,
too
,
was
much
higher
than
usual
.
This
was
owing
to
the
fact
that
at
one
end
of
the
table
there
stood
a
little
group
of
five
young
men
in
evening
dress
.
They
talked
and
laughed
as
they
flung
their
money
on
the
green
cloth
,
and
seemed
to
enjoy
the
fact
that
they
were
the
centre
of
attraction
.
"
One
of
them
,
"
whispered
Madame
Wachner
eagerly
,
"
had
already
lost
eight
thousand
francs
when
I
went
downstairs
to
look
for
you
!
See
,
they
are
still
losing
.
Our
friend
has
the
devil
's
own
luck
to-night
!
I
have
forbidden
L'Ami
Fritz
to
play
at
all
.
Nothing
can
stand
against
her
.
She
sweeps
the
money
up
every
time
.
If
Fritz
likes
,
he
can
go
downstairs
to
the
lower
room
and
play
.
"
But
before
doing
so
L'Ami
Fritz
lingered
awhile
,
watching
Madame
Wolsky
's
wonderful
run
of
luck
with
an
expression
of
painful
envy
and
greed
on
his
wolfish
countenance
.
Sylvia
went
round
to
a
point
where
she
could
watch
Anna
's
face
.
To
a
stranger
Madame
Wolsky
might
have
appeared
almost
indifferent
;
but
there
had
come
two
spots
of
red
on
her
cheeks
,
and
the
hand
with
which
she
raked
up
the
money
trembled
.
The
words
rang
out
,
"
Faites
vos
jeux
,
Messieurs
,
Mesdames
.
"
Then
,
"
Le
jeu
est
fait
!
Rien
ne
va
plus
!
"
The
luck
suddenly
turned
against
Anna
.
She
looked
up
,
and
found
Sylvia
's
eyes
fixed
on
her
.
She
made
a
slight
motion
,
as
if
she
wished
her
friend
to
go
away
.
Sylvia
slipped
back
,
and
walked
quietly
round
the
table
.
Then
she
stood
behind
Anna
,
and
once
more
the
luck
came
back
,
and
the
lady
banker
's
pile
of
notes
and
gold
grew
higher
and
higher
...
.
"
This
is
the
first
time
a
woman
has
held
the
Bank
this
month
,
"
Sylvia
heard
someone
say
.
And
then
there
came
an
answer
,
"
Yes
,
and
it
is
by
far
the
best
Bank
we
have
had
this
month
—
in
fact
,
it
's
the
best
play
we
've
had
this
season
!
"
At
last
Anna
pushed
away
her
chair
and
got
up
.
One
of
the
young
men
who
had
lost
a
good
deal
of
money
came
up
to
her
and
said
smilingly
.
"
I
hope
,
Madame
,
you
are
not
going
away
.
I
propose
now
to
take
the
Bank
;
surely
,
you
will
allow
me
to
have
my
revenge
?
"
Anna
Wolsky
laughed
.
"
Certainly
!
"
she
answered
.
"
I
propose
to
go
on
playing
for
some
time
longer
.
"
He
took
the
Banker
's
seat
,
and
the
crowd
dispersed
to
the
other
tables
.
L'Ami
Fritz
slipped
away
downstairs
,
but
his
wife
stayed
on
in
the
Club
by
Sylvia
's
side
.
Soon
the
table
was
as
much
surrounded
as
before
,
for
Anna
was
again
winning
.
She
had
won
as
banker
,
now
she
won
as
simple
player
,
and
all
those
about
her
began
to
"
follow
her
luck
"
with
excellent
results
to
themselves
.
The
scene
reminded
Sylvia
of
that
first
evening
at
the
Casino
.
It
was
only
three
weeks
ago
,
and
yet
how
full
,
how
crowded
the
time
had
been
!
Somehow
to-night
she
did
not
feel
inclined
to
play
.
To
her
surprise
and
amusement
she
saw
Madame
Wachner
actually
risk
a
twenty-franc
piece
.
A
moment
later
the
stake
was
doubled
,
and
soon
the
good
lady
had
won
nine
gold
pieces
.
Her
face
flushed
with
joy
like
a
happy
child
's
.
"
Oh
,
why
is
not
Fritz
here
?
"
she
exclaimed
.
"
How
sorry
I
am
I
sent
him
downstairs
!
But
,
never
mind
,
his
old
wife
is
making
some
money
for
once
!
"
At
last
the
Banker
rose
from
the
table
.
He
was
pretty
well
cleared
out
.
Smiling
and
bowing
to
Anna
,
he
said
,
"
Well
,
Madame
,
I
congratulate
you
!
You
must
have
a
very
powerful
mascot
.
"
Anna
shook
her
head
gaily
.
"
It
is
pleasant
to
win
from
a
millionaire
,
"
she
whispered
to
Sylvia
,
"
for
one
knows
it
does
not
hurt
him
!
That
young
man
has
a
share
in
the
profit
on
every
piece
of
sugar
sold
in
France
,
and
you
know
how
fond
the
French
are
of
sweet
things
!
"
She
turned
from
the
table
,
followed
by
Sylvia
and
Madame
Wachner
.
"
What
will
you
do
with
all
your
money
?
"
asked
Madame
Wachner
anxiously
.
"
I
told
one
of
the
ushers
to
have
it
all
turned
into
notes
for
me
,
"
she
answered
indifferently
.
"
As
to
what
I
shall
do
with
it
!
—
well
,
I
suppose
I
shall
have
to
go
into
Paris
and
bank
some
of
it
in
a
day
or
two
.
I
sha
n't
play
to-morrow
.
I
shall
take
a
rest
—
I
deserve
a
rest
!
"
She
looked
extraordinarily
excited
and
happy
.
"
Shall
we
drop
you
at
the
Pension
Malfait
?
"
said
Madame
Wachner
amiably
.
"
It
is
right
on
our
way
home
,
you
know
.
I
,
too
,
have
made
money
—
"
she
chuckled
joyously
.
Madame
Wachner
left
the
two
friends
standing
in
the
hall
while
she
went
to
look
for
her
husband
in
the
public
gambling
room
,
and
as
they
stood
there
Sylvia
became
conscious
that
they
were
being
stared
at
with
a
great
deal
of
interest
and
curiosity
.
The
news
of
Anna
Wolsky
's
extraordinary
good
luck
had
evidently
spread
.
"
I
wish
I
had
come
in
a
little
earlier
,
"
said
Sylvia
presently
.
"
I
've
never
seen
you
take
the
Bank
before
.
Surely
this
is
the
first
time
you
have
done
so
?
"
"
Yes
,
this
is
the
first
time
I
have
ever
been
tempted
to
take
the
Bank
at
Lacville
.
But
somehow
I
suddenly
felt
as
if
I
should
be
lucky
to-night
.
You
see
,
I
've
made
a
good
deal
of
money
the
last
day
or
two
,
and
Madame
Wachner
persuaded
me
to
try
my
luck
.
"
"
I
wish
you
had
told
me
you
were
thinking
of
taking
the
Bank
.
"
"
I
would
have
told
you
,
"
said
Anna
quietly
,
"
if
I
had
seen
you
to-day
.
But
I
have
been
seeing
very
little
of
you
lately
,
Sylvia
.
Why
,
you
are
more
with
Madame
Wachner
than
with
me
!
"
She
did
not
speak
unkindly
,
but
Sylvia
felt
a
pang
of
remorse
.
She
had
indeed
seen
very
little
of
Anna
Wolsky
during
the
last
few
days
,
but
that
was
not
because
she
had
been
with
Madame
Wachner
.
"
I
will
come
and
see
you
for
a
little
while
to-night
,
"
she
said
impetuously
,
"
for
I
am
going
to
spend
to-morrow
in
Paris
—
with
a
friend
who
is
there
just
now
—
"
She
hurried
out
the
half-truth
with
a
curious
feeling
of
guilt
.
"
Yes
,
do
come
!
"
cried
Anna
eagerly
.
"
You
can
stay
with
me
while
the
carriage
takes
the
Wachners
on
home
,
and
then
it
can
call
for
you
on
the
way
back
.
I
should
not
like
you
to
walk
to
the
Villa
du
Lac
alone
at
this
time
of
night
.
"
"
Ah
,
but
I
'm
not
like
you
;
I
have
n't
won
piles
of
money
!
"
said
Sylvia
,
smiling
.
"
No
,
but
that
makes
very
little
difference
in
a
place
like
this
—
"
And
then
Monsieur
and
Madame
Wachner
joined
them
.
L'Ami
Fritz
looked
quite
moved
out
of
himself
.
He
seized
Anna
by
the
hand
.
"
I
congratulate
you
!
"
he
said
heartily
.
"
What
a
splendid
thing
to
go
on
winning
like
that
.
I
wish
I
had
been
there
,
for
I
might
have
followed
your
luck
!
"
They
all
four
walked
out
of
the
Casino
.
It
was
a
very
dark
night
.
"
And
what
will
you
do
with
all
that
money
?
"
Monsieur
Wachner
solicitously
inquired
.
"
It
is
a
great
sum
to
carry
about
,
is
it
not
?
"
"
It
is
far
better
to
carry
about
one
's
money
than
to
trust
it
to
anyone
but
to
a
well-managed
bank
,
"
exclaimed
his
wife
,
before
Anna
could
answer
the
question
.
"
As
for
the
hotel-keepers
,
I
would
not
trust
them
with
one
penny
.
What
happened
to
a
friend
of
ours
,
eh
,
Fritz
,
tell
them
that
?
"
They
were
now
packed
into
an
open
carriage
,
and
driving
towards
the
Pension
Malfait
.
"
I
do
n't
know
what
you
are
talking
about
,
"
said
her
husband
,
crossly
.
"
Yes
,
you
do
!
That
friend
of
ours
who
was
boarding
in
one
of
those
small
houses
in
the
Condamine
at
Monte
Carlo
,
and
who
one
day
won
a
lot
of
money
.
He
gave
his
winnings
to
his
hotel-keeper
to
keep
for
the
night
.
Next
day
the
man
said
his
safe
had
been
broken
open
by
a
foreign
waiter
who
had
disappeared
.
Our
friend
had
no
redress
—
none
at
all
!
Malfait
may
be
a
very
good
sort
of
man
,
but
I
would
not
give
him
your
money
—
"
she
turned
to
Anna
.
"
No
,
of
course
not
,
"
said
Madame
Wolsky
.
"
I
should
never
think
of
entrusting
a
really
large
sum
of
money
to
a
man
of
whom
I
know
nothing
.
It
is
,
as
you
say
,
very
much
better
to
keep
one
's
money
on
one
's
person
.
It
's
the
plan
I
've
always
followed
.
Then
,
if
it
is
stolen
,
or
if
one
loses
it
,
one
has
only
oneself
to
blame
.
"
"
It
is
very
exciting
taking
the
Bank
,
"
she
added
,
after
a
pause
.
"
I
think
I
shall
take
the
Bank
again
next
time
I
play
.
"
The
short
drive
was
soon
over
,
and
as
Anna
and
Sylvia
were
going
into
the
Pension
Malfait
,
Madame
Wachner
called
out
,
"
Will
you
both
come
to
supper
to-morrow
?
"
Sylvia
shook
her
head
.
"
I
am
going
into
Paris
for
the
day
,
"
she
said
,
"
and
I
shall
feel
tired
when
I
get
back
.
But
many
thanks
,
all
the
same
.
"
"
Then
you
must
come
"
—
Madame
Wachner
addressed
Anna
Wolsky
.
"
We
also
will
have
a
rest
from
the
Casino
.
"
"
Very
well
!
I
accept
gratefully
your
kind
invitation
.
"
"
Come
early
.
Come
at
six
,
and
we
can
'
ave
a
cosy
chat
first
.
"
"
Yes
,
I
will
!
"
After
giving
directions
that
they
were
to
be
told
when
the
carriage
had
come
back
from
the
Châlet
des
Muguets
,
the
two
friends
went
up
to
Anna
Wolsky
's
bed-room
.
Sylvia
sat
down
by
the
open
window
.
"
You
need
not
light
a
candle
,
Anna
,
"
she
said
.
"
It
's
so
pleasant
just
now
,
so
quiet
and
cool
,
and
the
light
would
only
attract
those
horrid
midges
.
They
seem
to
me
the
only
things
I
have
to
find
fault
with
in
Lacville
!
"
Anna
Wolsky
came
and
sat
down
in
the
darkness
close
to
the
younger
woman
.
"
Sylvia
,
"
she
said
,
"
dear
little
Sylvia
!
Sometimes
I
feel
uneasy
at
having
brought
you
to
Lacville
.
"
She
spoke
in
a
thoughtful
and
very
serious
tone
.
"
Indeed
,
you
need
feel
nothing
of
the
kind
.
"
Sylvia
Bailey
put
out
her
hand
and
took
the
other
woman
's
hand
in
her
own
.
She
knew
in
her
heart
what
Anna
meant
,
but
she
wilfully
pretended
to
misunderstand
her
.
"
You
need
never
think
that
I
run
the
slightest
risk
of
becoming
a
gambler
,
"
she
went
on
,
a
little
breathlessly
.
"
I
was
looking
at
my
account-book
to-day
,
and
I
find
that
since
I
have
been
here
I
have
lost
seventy
francs
.
Two
days
ago
I
had
won
a
hundred
and
ten
francs
.
So
you
see
it
is
not
a
very
serious
matter
,
is
it
?
Just
think
of
all
the
fun
I
've
had
!
It
's
well
worth
the
money
I
've
lost
.
Besides
,
I
shall
probably
win
it
all
back
—
"
"
I
was
not
thinking
of
the
money
,
"
said
Anna
Wolsky
slowly
.
Sylvia
made
a
restless
movement
,
and
took
her
hand
out
of
Anna
's
affectionate
clasp
.
"
I
'm
afraid
that
you
are
becoming
very
fond
of
the
Comte
de
Virieu
,
"
went
on
Anna
,
in
a
low
voice
but
very
deliberately
.
"
You
must
forgive
me
,
Sylvia
,
but
I
am
older
than
you
are
.
Have
you
thought
of
the
consequences
of
this
friendship
of
yours
?
I
confess
that
at
the
beginning
I
credited
that
man
with
the
worst
of
motives
,
but
now
I
feel
afraid
that
he
is
in
love
—
in
fact
I
feel
sure
that
he
is
madly
in
love
with
you
.
Do
you
know
that
he
never
takes
his
eyes
off
you
in
the
Club
?
Often
he
forgets
to
pick
up
his
winnings
...
.
"
Sylvia
's
heart
began
to
beat
.
She
wondered
if
Anna
was
indeed
telling
the
truth
.
She
almost
bent
forward
and
kissed
her
friend
in
her
gratitude
—
but
all
she
said
was
,
and
that
defiantly
,
"
You
can
believe
me
when
I
say
that
he
has
never
said
a
word
of
love
to
me
.
He
has
never
even
flirted
with
me
.
I
give
you
my
word
that
that
is
so
!
"
"
Ah
,
but
it
is
just
that
fact
that
makes
me
believe
that
he
cares
.
Flirtation
is
an
English
art
,
not
a
French
art
,
my
dear
Sylvia
.
A
Frenchman
either
loves
—
and
when
he
loves
he
adores
on
his
knees
—
or
else
he
has
no
use
,
no
use
at
all
,
for
what
English
people
mean
by
flirtation
—
the
make-believe
of
love
!
I
should
feel
much
more
at
ease
if
the
Count
had
insulted
you
—
"
"
Anna
!
"
"
Yes
,
indeed
!
I
am
quite
serious
.
I
fear
he
loves
you
.
"
And
as
Sylvia
gave
a
long
,
involuntary
,
happy
sigh
,
Anna
went
on
:
"
Of
course
,
I
do
not
regard
him
with
trust
or
with
liking
.
How
could
I
?
On
the
other
hand
,
I
do
not
go
as
far
as
the
Wachners
;
they
,
it
is
quite
clear
,
evidently
know
something
very
much
to
the
Count
's
discredit
.
"
"
I
do
n't
believe
they
do
!
"
cried
Sylvia
,
hotly
.
"
It
is
mere
prejudice
on
their
part
!
He
does
not
like
them
,
and
they
know
it
.
He
thinks
them
vulgar
sort
of
people
,
and
he
suspects
that
Monsieur
Wachner
is
German
—
that
is
quite
enough
for
him
.
"
"
But
,
after
all
,
it
does
not
really
matter
what
the
Wachners
think
of
the
Comte
de
Virieu
,
or
what
he
thinks
of
them
,
"
said
Anna
.
"
What
matters
is
what
you
think
of
him
,
and
what
he
thinks
of
you
.
"
Sylvia
was
glad
that
the
darkness
hid
her
deep
,
burning
blushes
from
Anna
Wolsky
.
"
You
do
not
realise
,
"
said
the
Polish
lady
,
gravely
,
"
what
your
life
would
be
if
you
were
married
to
a
man
whose
only
interest
in
life
is
play
.
Mind
you
,
I
do
not
say
that
a
gambler
does
not
make
a
kind
husband
.
We
have
an
example
"
—
she
smiled
a
little
—
"
in
this
Monsieur
Wachner
.
He
is
certainly
very
fond
of
his
wife
,
and
she
is
very
fond
of
him
.
But
would
you
like
your
husband
always
to
prefer
his
vice
to
you
?
"
Sylvia
made
no
answer
.
"
But
why
am
I
talking
like
that
?
"
Anna
Wolsky
started
up
suddenly
.
"
It
is
absurd
of
me
to
think
it
possible
that
you
would
dream
of
marrying
the
Comte
de
Virieu
!
No
,
no
,
my
dear
child
,
this
poor
Frenchman
is
one
of
those
men
who
,
even
if
personally
charming
,
no
wise
woman
would
think
of
marrying
.
He
is
absolutely
ruined
.
I
do
not
suppose
he
has
a
penny
left
of
his
own
in
the
world
.
He
would
not
have
the
money
to
buy
you
a
wedding
ring
.
You
would
have
to
provide
even
that
!
It
would
be
madness
—
absolute
madness
!
"
"
I
do
not
think
,
"
said
Sylvia
,
in
a
low
tone
,
"
that
there
is
the
slightest
likelihood
of
my
ever
marrying
the
Comte
de
Virieu
.
You
forget
that
I
have
known
him
only
a
short
time
,
and
that
he
has
never
said
a
word
of
love
to
me
.
As
you
say
,
all
he
cares
about
is
play
.
"
"
Surely
you
must
be
as
well
aware
as
I
am
that
lately
he
has
played
a
great
deal
less
,
"
said
Anna
,
"
and
the
time
that
he
would
have
spent
at
the
Club
—
well
,
you
and
I
know
very
well
where
he
has
spent
the
time
,
Sylvia
.
He
has
spent
it
with
you
.
"
"
And
is
n't
that
a
good
thing
?
"
asked
Sylvia
,
eagerly
.
"
Is
n't
it
far
better
that
he
should
spend
his
time
talking
to
me
about
ordinary
things
than
in
the
Casino
?
Let
me
assure
you
again
,
and
most
solemnly
,
Anna
,
that
he
never
makes
love
to
me
—
"
"
Of
course
it
is
a
good
thing
for
him
that
he
plays
less
"
—
Anna
spoke
impatiently
—
"
but
is
it
best
for
you
?
That
is
what
I
ask
myself
.
You
have
not
looked
well
lately
,
Sylvia
.
You
have
looked
very
sad
sometimes
.
Oh
,
do
not
be
afraid
,
you
are
quite
as
pretty
as
ever
you
were
!
"
The
tears
were
running
down
Sylvia
's
face
.
She
felt
that
she
ought
to
be
very
angry
with
her
friend
for
speaking
thus
plainly
to
her
,
and
yet
she
could
not
be
angry
.
Anna
spoke
so
tenderly
,
so
kindly
,
so
delicately
.
"
Shall
we
go
away
from
Lacville
?
"
asked
Madame
Wolsky
,
suddenly
.
"
There
are
a
hundred
places
where
you
and
I
could
go
together
.
Let
us
leave
Lacville
!
I
am
sure
you
feel
just
as
I
do
—
I
am
sure
you
realise
that
the
Comte
de
Virieu
would
never
make
you
happy
.
"
Sylvia
shook
her
head
.
"
I
do
not
want
to
go
away
,
"
she
whispered
.
And
then
Madame
Wolsky
uttered
a
short
exclamation
.
"
Ah
!
"
she
cried
,
"
I
understand
.
He
is
the
friend
you
are
to
meet
to-morrow
—
that
is
why
you
are
going
into
Paris
!
"
Sylvia
remained
silent
.
"
I
understand
it
all
now
,
"
went
on
Anna
.
"
That
is
the
reason
why
he
was
not
there
to-night
.
He
has
gone
into
Paris
so
as
not
to
compromise
you
at
Lacville
.
That
is
the
sort
of
gallantry
that
means
so
little
!
As
if
Lacville
matters
—
but
tell
me
this
,
Sylvia
?
Has
he
ever
spoken
to
you
as
if
he
desired
to
introduce
his
family
to
you
?
That
is
the
test
,
remember
—
that
is
the
test
of
a
Frenchman
's
regard
for
a
woman
.
"
There
came
a
knock
at
the
door
.
"
The
carriage
for
Madame
has
arrived
.
"
They
went
downstairs
,
Sylvia
having
left
her
friend
's
last
question
unanswered
.
Madame
Wolsky
,
though
generally
so
undemonstrative
,
took
Sylvia
in
her
arms
and
kissed
her
.
"
God
bless
you
,
my
dear
little
friend
!
"
she
whispered
,
"
and
forgive
all
I
have
said
to
you
to-night
!
Still
,
think
the
matter
over
.
I
have
lived
a
great
deal
of
my
life
in
this
country
.
I
am
almost
a
Frenchwoman
.
It
is
no
use
marrying
a
Frenchman
unless
his
family
marry
you
too
—
and
I
understand
that
the
Comte
de
Virieu
's
family
have
cast
him
off
.
"
Sylvia
got
into
the
carriage
and
looked
back
,
her
eyes
blinded
with
tears
.
Anna
Wolsky
stood
in
the
doorway
of
the
Pension
,
her
tall
,
thin
figure
in
sharp
silhouette
against
the
lighted
hall
.
"
We
will
meet
the
day
after
to-morrow
,
is
that
not
so
?
"
she
cried
out
.
And
Sylvia
nodded
.
As
she
drove
away
,
she
told
herself
that
whatever
happened
she
would
always
remain
faithful
to
her
affection
for
Anna
Wolsky
.
CHAPTER
XIII
The
next
morning
found
Paul
de
Virieu
walking
up
and
down
platform
No.
9
of
the
Gare
du
Nord
,
waiting
for
Mrs.
Bailey
's
train
,
which
was
due
to
arrive
from
Lacville
at
eleven
o'clock
.
Though
he
looked
as
if
he
had
n't
a
care
in
the
world
save
the
pleasant
care
of
enjoying
the
present
and
looking
forward
to
the
future
,
life
was
very
grey
just
now
to
the
young
Frenchman
.
To
a
Parisian
,
Paris
in
hot
weather
is
a
depressing
place
,
even
under
the
pleasantest
of
circumstances
,
and
the
Count
felt
an
alien
and
an
outcast
in
the
city
where
he
had
spent
much
of
his
careless
and
happy
youth
.
His
sister
,
the
Duchesse
d'Eglemont
,
who
had
journeyed
all
the
way
from
Brittany
to
see
him
for
two
or
three
days
,
had
received
him
with
that
touch
of
painful
affection
which
the
kindly
and
the
prosperous
so
often
bestow
on
those
whom
they
feel
to
be
at
once
beloved
and
prodigal
.
When
with
his
dear
Marie-Anne
,
Paul
de
Virieu
always
felt
as
though
he
had
been
condemned
to
be
guillotined
,
and
as
if
she
were
doing
everything
to
make
his
last
days
on
earth
as
pleasant
as
possible
.
When
he
had
proposed
that
his
sister
should
ask
his
new
friend
,
this
English
widow
he
had
met
at
Lacville
,
to
luncheon
—
nay
more
,
when
he
had
asked
Marie-Anne
to
lend
Mrs.
Bailey
a
riding
habit
,
and
to
arrange
that
one
of
the
Duc
's
horses
should
come
over
every
morning
in
order
that
he
and
Mrs.
Bailey
might
ride
together
—
the
kind
Duchesse
had
at
once
assented
,
almost
too
eagerly
,
to
his
requests
.
And
she
had
asked
her
brother
no
tiresome
,
indiscreet
questions
as
to
his
relations
with
the
young
Englishwoman
,
—
whether
,
for
instance
,
he
was
really
fond
of
Sylvia
,
whether
it
was
conceivably
possible
that
he
was
thinking
of
marrying
her
?
And
,
truth
to
tell
,
Paul
de
Virieu
would
have
found
it
very
difficult
to
give
an
honest
answer
to
the
question
.
He
was
in
a
strange
,
debatable
state
of
mind
about
Sylvia
—
beautiful
,
simple
,
unsophisticated
Sylvia
Bailey
.
He
told
himself
,
and
that
very
often
,
that
the
young
Englishwoman
,
with
her
absurd
,
touching
lack
of
worldly
knowledge
,
had
no
business
to
be
living
in
such
a
place
as
Lacville
,
wasting
her
money
at
the
Baccarat
tables
,
and
knowing
such
queer
people
as
were
—
well
,
yes
,
even
Anna
Wolsky
was
queer
—
Madame
Wolsky
and
the
Wachners
!
But
if
Sylvia
Bailey
had
no
business
to
be
at
Lacville
,
he
,
Paul
de
Virieu
,
had
no
business
to
be
flirting
with
her
as
he
was
doing
—
for
though
Sylvia
was
honestly
unaware
of
the
fact
,
the
Count
was
carrying
on
what
he
well
knew
to
be
a
very
agreeable
flirtation
with
the
lady
he
called
in
his
own
mind
his
"
petite
amie
Anglaise
,
"
and
very
much
he
was
enjoying
the
experience
—
when
his
conscience
allowed
him
to
enjoy
it
.
Till
the
last
few
weeks
Paul
de
Virieu
had
supposed
himself
to
have
come
to
that
time
of
life
when
a
man
can
no
longer
feel
the
delicious
tremors
of
love
.
Now
no
man
,
least
of
all
a
Frenchman
,
likes
to
feel
that
this
time
has
come
,
and
it
was
inexpressibly
delightful
to
him
to
know
that
he
had
been
mistaken
—
that
he
could
still
enjoy
the
most
absorbing
and
enchanting
sensation
vouchsafed
to
poor
humanity
.
He
was
in
love
!
In
love
for
the
first
time
for
many
years
,
and
with
a
sweet
,
happy-natured
woman
,
who
became
more
intimately
dear
to
him
every
moment
that
went
by
.
Indeed
,
he
knew
that
the
real
reason
why
he
had
felt
so
depressed
last
night
and
even
this
morning
was
because
he
was
parted
from
Sylvia
.
But
where
was
it
all
to
end
?
True
,
he
had
told
Mrs.
Bailey
the
truth
about
himself
very
early
in
their
acquaintance
—
in
fact
,
amazingly
soon
,
and
he
had
been
prompted
to
do
so
by
a
feeling
which
defied
analysis
.
But
still
,
did
Sylvia
,
even
now
,
realise
what
that
truth
was
?
Did
she
in
the
least
understand
what
it
meant
for
a
man
to
be
bound
and
gagged
,
as
he
was
bound
and
gagged
,
lashed
to
the
chariot
of
the
Goddess
of
Chance
?
No
,
of
course
she
did
not
realise
it
—
how
could
such
a
woman
as
was
Sylvia
Bailey
possibly
do
so
?
Walking
up
and
down
the
long
platform
,
chewing
the
cud
of
bitter
reflection
,
Paul
de
Virieu
told
himself
that
the
part
of
an
honest
man
,
to
say
nothing
of
that
of
an
honourable
gentleman
,
would
be
to
leave
Lacville
before
matters
had
gone
any
further
between
them
.
Yes
,
that
was
what
he
was
bound
to
do
by
every
code
of
honour
.
And
then
,
just
as
he
had
taken
the
heroic
resolution
of
going
back
to
Brittany
with
his
sister
,
as
Marie-Anne
had
begged
him
to
do
only
that
morning
,
the
Lacville
train
steamed
into
the
station
—
and
with
the
sight
of
Sylvia
's
lovely
face
all
his
good
resolutions
flew
to
the
winds
.
She
stepped
down
from
the
high
railway
carriage
,
and
looked
round
her
with
a
rather
bewildered
air
,
for
a
crowd
of
people
were
surging
round
her
,
and
she
had
not
yet
caught
sight
of
Count
Paul
.
Wearing
a
pinkish
mauve
cotton
gown
and
a
large
black
tulle
hat
,
Sylvia
looked
enchantingly
pretty
.
And
if
the
Count
's
critical
French
eyes
objected
to
the
alliance
of
a
cotton
gown
and
tulle
hat
,
and
to
the
wearing
of
a
string
of
large
pearls
in
the
morning
,
he
was
in
the
state
of
mind
when
a
man
of
fastidious
taste
forgives
even
a
lack
of
taste
in
the
woman
to
whom
he
is
acting
as
guide
,
philosopher
,
and
friend
.
He
told
himself
that
Sylvia
Bailey
could
not
be
left
alone
in
a
place
like
Lacville
,
and
that
it
was
his
positive
duty
to
stay
on
there
and
look
after
her
...
.
Suddenly
their
eyes
met
.
Sylvia
blushed
—
Heavens
!
how
adorable
she
looked
when
there
came
that
vivid
rose-red
blush
over
her
rounded
cheeks
.
And
she
was
adorable
in
a
simple
,
unsophisticated
way
,
which
appealed
to
Paul
de
Virieu
as
nothing
in
woman
had
ever
appealed
to
him
before
.
He
could
not
help
enjoying
the
thought
of
how
surprised
his
sister
would
be
.
Marie-Anne
had
doubtless
pictured
Mrs.
Bailey
as
belonging
to
the
rather
hard
,
self-assertive
type
of
young
Englishwoman
of
whom
Paris
sees
a
great
deal
.
But
Sylvia
looked
girlishly
simple
,
timid
,
and
confiding
.
As
he
greeted
her
,
Paul
de
Virieu
's
manner
was
serious
,
almost
solemn
.
But
none
the
less
,
while
they
walked
side
by
side
in
a
quiet
,
leisurely
fashion
through
the
great
grey
station
,
Sylvia
felt
as
if
she
had
indeed
passed
through
the
shining
portals
of
fairyland
.
In
the
covered
courtyard
stood
the
Duchesse
's
carriage
.
Count
Paul
motioned
the
footman
aside
and
stood
bareheaded
while
Sylvia
took
her
place
in
the
victoria
.
As
he
sat
down
by
her
side
he
suddenly
observed
,
"
My
brother-in-law
does
not
like
motor-cars
,
"
and
Sylvia
felt
secret
,
shame-faced
gratitude
to
the
Duc
d'Eglemont
,
for
,
thanks
to
this
prejudice
of
his
,
the
moments
now
being
spent
by
her
alone
with
Count
Paul
were
trebled
.
As
the
carriage
drove
with
swift
,
gondola-like
motion
through
the
hot
streets
,
Sylvia
felt
more
than
ever
as
if
she
were
in
a
new
,
enchanted
country
—
that
dear
country
called
Romance
,
and
,
as
if
to
prolong
the
illusion
,
the
Count
began
to
talk
what
seemed
to
her
the
language
of
that
country
.
"
Every
Frenchman
,
"
he
exclaimed
,
abruptly
,
"
is
in
love
with
love
,
and
when
you
hear
—
as
you
may
do
sometimes
,
Madame
—
that
a
Frenchman
is
rarely
in
love
with
his
own
wife
,
pray
answer
that
this
is
quite
untrue
!
For
it
often
happens
that
in
his
wife
a
Frenchman
discovers
the
love
he
has
sought
elsewhere
in
vain
.
"
He
looked
straight
before
him
as
he
added
:
"
As
for
marriage
—
well
,
marriage
is
in
my
country
regarded
as
a
very
serious
matter
indeed
!
No
Frenchman
goes
into
marriage
as
light-heartedly
as
does
the
average
Englishman
,
and
as
have
done
,
for
instance
,
so
many
of
my
own
English
schoolfellows
.
No
,
to
a
Frenchman
his
marriage
means
everything
or
nothing
,
and
if
he
loved
a
woman
it
would
appear
to
him
a
dastardly
action
to
ask
her
to
share
his
life
if
he
did
not
believe
that
life
to
be
what
would
be
likely
to
satisfy
her
,
to
bring
her
honour
and
happiness
.
"
Sylvia
turned
to
him
,
and
,
rather
marvelling
at
her
own
temerity
,
she
asked
a
fateful
question
:
"
But
would
love
ever
make
the
kind
of
Frenchman
you
describe
give
up
a
way
of
life
that
was
likely
to
make
his
wife
unhappy
?
"
Count
Paul
looked
straight
into
the
blue
eyes
which
told
him
so
much
more
than
their
owner
knew
they
told
.
"
Yes
!
He
might
easily
give
up
that
life
for
the
sake
of
a
beloved
woman
.
But
would
he
remain
always
faithful
in
his
renunciation
?
That
is
the
question
which
none
,
least
of
all
himself
,
can
answer
!
"
The
victoria
was
now
crossing
one
of
the
bridges
which
are
,
perhaps
,
the
noblest
possession
of
outdoor
Paris
.
Count
Paul
changed
the
subject
.
He
had
seen
with
mingled
pain
and
joy
how
much
his
last
honest
words
had
troubled
her
.
"
My
brother-in-law
has
never
cared
to
move
west
,
as
so
many
of
his
friends
have
done
,
"
he
observed
.
"
He
prefers
to
remain
in
the
old
family
house
that
was
built
by
his
great-grandfather
before
the
French
Revolution
.
"
Soon
they
were
bowling
along
a
quiet
,
sunny
street
,
edged
with
high
walls
overhung
with
trees
.
The
street
bore
the
name
of
Babylon
.
And
indeed
there
was
something
almost
Babylonian
,
something
very
splendid
in
the
vast
courtyard
which
formed
the
centre
of
what
appeared
,
to
Sylvia
's
fascinated
eyes
,
a
grey
stone
palace
.
The
long
rows
of
high
,
narrow
windows
which
now
encompassed
her
were
all
closed
,
but
with
the
clatter
of
the
horses
'
hoofs
on
the
huge
paving-stones
the
great
house
stirred
into
life
.
The
carriage
drew
up
.
Count
Paul
jumped
out
and
gave
Sylvia
his
hand
.
Huge
iron
doors
,
that
looked
as
if
they
could
shut
out
an
invading
army
,
were
flung
open
,
and
after
a
moment
's
pause
,
Paul
de
Virieu
led
Sylvia
Bailey
across
the
threshold
of
the
historic
Hôtel
d'Eglemont
.
She
had
never
seen
,
she
had
never
imagined
,
such
pomp
,
such
solemn
state
,
as
that
which
greeted
her
,
and
there
came
across
her
a
childish
wish
that
Anna
Wolsky
and
the
Wachners
could
witness
the
scene
—
the
hall
hung
with
tapestries
given
to
an
ancestor
of
the
Duc
d'Eglemont
by
Louis
the
Fourteenth
,
the
line
of
powdered
footmen
,
and
the
solemn
major-domo
who
ushered
them
up
the
wide
staircase
,
at
the
head
of
which
there
stood
a
slender
,
white-clad
young
woman
,
with
a
sweet
,
eager
face
.
This
was
the
first
time
Sylvia
Bailey
had
met
a
duchess
,
and
she
was
perhaps
a
little
surprised
to
see
how
very
unpretentious
a
duchess
could
be
!
Marie-Anne
d'Eglemont
spoke
in
a
low
,
almost
timid
voice
,
her
English
being
far
less
good
than
her
brother
's
,
and
yet
how
truly
kind
and
highly-bred
she
at
once
showed
herself
,
putting
Sylvia
at
her
ease
,
and
appearing
to
think
there
was
nothing
at
all
unusual
in
Mrs.
Bailey
's
friendship
with
Paul
de
Virieu
!
And
then
,
after
they
had
lunched
in
an
octagon
room
of
which
each
panel
had
been
painted
by
Van
Loo
,
and
which
opened
on
a
garden
where
the
green
glades
and
high
trees
looked
as
if
they
must
be
far
from
a
great
city
,
there
suddenly
glided
in
a
tiny
old
lady
,
dressed
in
a
sweeping
black
gown
and
little
frilled
lace
cap.
Count
Paul
bowing
low
before
her
,
kissed
her
waxen-looking
right
hand
.
"
My
dear
godmother
,
let
me
present
to
you
Mrs.
Bailey
,
"
and
Sylvia
felt
herself
being
closely
,
rather
pitilessly
,
inspected
by
shrewd
though
not
unkindly
eyes
—
eyes
sunken
,
dimmed
by
age
,
yet
seeing
more
,
perhaps
,
than
younger
eyes
would
have
seen
.
The
old
Marquise
beckoned
to
Count
Paul
,
and
together
they
slowly
walked
through
into
the
garden
and
paced
away
down
a
shaded
alley
.
For
the
first
time
Sylvia
and
Marie-Anne
d'Eglemont
were
alone
together
.
"
I
wish
to
thank
you
for
your
kindness
to
my
poor
Paul
,
"
the
Duchesse
spoke
in
a
low
,
hesitating
voice
.
"
You
have
so
much
influence
over
him
,
Madame
.
"
Sylvia
shook
her
head
.
"
Ah
!
But
yes
,
you
have
!
"
She
looked
imploringly
at
Sylvia
.
"
You
know
what
I
mean
?
You
know
what
I
would
ask
you
to
do
?
My
husband
could
give
Paul
work
in
the
country
,
work
he
would
love
,
for
he
adores
horses
,
if
only
he
could
be
rescued
from
this
terrible
infatuation
,
this
passion
for
play
.
"
She
stopped
abruptly
,
for
the
Count
and
his
little
,
fairy-like
godmother
had
turned
round
,
and
were
now
coming
towards
them
.
Sylvia
rose
instinctively
to
her
feet
,
for
the
tiny
Marquise
was
very
imposing
.
"
Sit
down
,
Madame
,
"
she
said
imperiously
,
and
Sylvia
meekly
obeyed
.
The
old
lady
fixed
her
eyes
with
an
appraising
gaze
on
her
godson
's
English
friend
.
"
Permit
me
to
embrace
you
,
"
she
exclaimed
suddenly
.
"
You
are
a
very
pretty
creature
!
And
though
no
doubt
young
lips
often
tell
you
this
,
the
compliments
of
the
old
have
the
merit
of
being
quite
sincere
!
"
She
bent
down
,
and
Sylvia
,
to
her
confusion
and
surprise
,
felt
her
cheeks
lightly
kissed
by
the
withered
lips
of
Paul
de
Virieu
's
godmother
.
"
Madame
Bailey
's
rouge
is
natural
;
it
does
not
come
off
!
"
the
old
lady
exclaimed
,
and
a
smile
crept
over
her
parchment-coloured
face
.
"
Not
but
what
a
great
deal
of
nonsense
is
talked
about
the
usage
of
rouge
,
my
dear
children
!
There
is
no
harm
in
supplementing
the
niggardly
gifts
of
nature
.
You
,
for
instance
,
Marie-Anne
,
would
look
all
the
better
for
a
little
rouge
!
"
She
spoke
in
a
high
,
quavering
voice
.
The
Duchesse
smiled
.
Her
brother
had
always
been
the
old
Marquise
's
favourite
.
"
But
I
should
feel
so
ashamed
if
it
came
off
,
"
she
said
lightly
;
"
if
,
for
instance
,
I
felt
one
of
my
cheeks
growing
pale
while
the
other
remained
bright
red
?
"
"
That
would
never
happen
if
you
used
what
I
have
often
told
you
is
the
only
rouge
a
lady
should
use
,
that
is
,
the
sap
of
the
geranium
blossom
—
that
gives
an
absolutely
natural
tint
to
the
skin
,
and
my
own
dear
mother
always
used
it
.
You
remember
how
Louis
XVIII
.
complimented
her
on
her
beautiful
complexion
at
the
first
Royal
ball
held
after
the
Restoration
?
Well
,
the
Sovereign
's
gracious
words
were
entirely
owing
to
the
geranium
blossom
!
"
CHAPTER
XIV
The
day
after
her
memorable
expedition
to
Paris
opened
pleasantly
for
Sylvia
Bailey
,
though
it
was
odd
how
dull
and
lifeless
the
Villa
du
Lac
seemed
to
be
without
Count
Paul
.
But
he
would
be
back
to-morrow
,
and
in
the
morning
of
the
next
day
they
were
to
begin
riding
together
.
Again
and
again
she
went
over
in
retrospect
every
moment
of
the
two
hours
she
had
spent
in
that
great
house
in
the
Faubourg
St.
Germain
.
How
kind
these
two
ladies
had
been
to
her
,
Paul
's
gentle
sister
and
his
stately
little
fairy-like
godmother
!
But
the
Duchesse
's
manner
had
been
very
formal
,
almost
solemn
;
and
as
for
the
other
—
Sylvia
could
still
feel
the
dim
,
yet
terribly
searching
,
eyes
fixed
on
her
face
,
and
she
wondered
nervously
what
sort
of
effect
she
had
produced
on
the
old
Marquise
.
Meanwhile
,
she
felt
that
now
was
the
time
to
see
something
of
Anna
Wolsky
.
The
long
afternoon
and
evening
stretching
before
her
seemed
likely
to
be
very
dull
,
and
so
she
wrote
a
little
note
and
asked
Anna
if
she
would
care
for
a
long
expedition
in
the
Forest
of
Montmorency
.
It
was
the
sort
of
thing
Anna
always
said
bored
her
,
but
as
she
was
not
going
to
the
Casino
a
drive
would
surely
be
better
than
doing
nothing
.
And
now
Sylvia
,
sitting
idly
by
her
bed-room
window
,
was
awaiting
Anna
's
answer
to
her
note
.
She
had
sent
it
,
just
before
she
went
down
to
luncheon
,
by
a
commissionaire
,
to
the
Pension
Malfait
,
and
the
answer
ought
to
have
come
ere
now
.
After
their
drive
she
and
Anna
might
call
on
the
Wachners
and
offer
to
take
them
to
the
Casino
;
and
with
the
thought
of
the
Wachners
there
came
over
Sylvia
a
regret
that
the
Comte
de
Virieu
was
so
fastidious
.
He
seemed
to
detest
the
Wachners
!
When
he
met
them
at
the
Casino
,
the
most
he
would
do
was
to
incline
his
head
coldly
towards
them
.
Who
could
wonder
that
Madame
Wachner
spoke
so
disagreeably
of
him
?
Sylvia
Bailey
's
