"Indeed, madame," commented the maid, pursuing the theme from where she knelt to fit each little foot, "the gentlemen would not even tarry for breakfast, so hurried were they to be gone!"
The Burgrave listened, was half convinced, then a fresh spasm of suspicious misgiving came over him.
"Yet, doubtless," he sneered, "not without a satisfying farewell from the hostess! You are strangely early this morning, madame."
The Burgravine raised her blue eyes from the contemplation of her foot.
"You mistake," she said innocently; "our adieux took place last night, shortly after supper. You see, I am not even dressed. And, as to early rising, _mon Dieu_, my friend, the nights are of such lengths here, that there are times when I think it cannot soon enough be day."
"And _ma foi_," put in the maid pertly, "then it is the days that are so long, up here in the clouds, that it cannot soon enough be night."
The two women laughed. He stood between them, a miserable clumsy man; conscious of their subtler wits and quicker tongues, a prey to dark doubts and slowly shaping his own resolve.
Betty now jumped to her feet and shook her loose silks and laces about her as a bird shakes its plumage.
"Eliza, inform the Baroness Sidonia of the Herr Graf’s return," she bade in an off-hand tone.
The Burgrave thought to catch a meaning glance between mistress and maid. No doubt Sidonia would lie with the other—all women were jades alike. Well! he knew what he had to do; meanwhile Betty was distractingly alluring with all those fal-lals of ribbons and lace, and it was three weeks since he had kissed her. The door had scarcely closed on Mademoiselle Eliza before the Burgrave caught his wife in his arms.
"Ah, _mon Dieu_," cried she, pettishly, "and pray, sir, when have you shaved last?"
"_I tempted his blood and his flesh,_ _Hid in roses my mesh,_ _Choicest cates and the flagon’s best spilth...._" ROBERT BROWNING.
"So you have had visitors, Sidonia, my dove? Eh?" said the Burgrave.
His tone was good-humoured, but the glance he fixed upon the girl was cold. He had very pale grey eyes that could stare by the minute together without blinking, a power somewhat disconcerting (he flattered himself) to those who thought to keep secrets from him. Sidonia had just entered the room and was hastening to greet her uncle, for whom she had a certain placid affection. But instinctively she drew back, affronted, upon meeting that gaze. The words of welcome died on her lips.