Countess was gay
and brilliant; kind also, with a tenderness that seemed to throw out
feelers for friendship. To me she spoke only when I addressed her
directly; her attention was all for Elsa. In Elsa's eyes, not skilled to
conceal her heart, there was, overpowering all other expression, a
curiosity, a study of something that interested and puzzled her, a
desire to understand the woman who talked to her. For Elsa had heard
something; not all, but something. She was not hostile or disturbed; she
was gracious and eager to please; but she was inquiring and searching.
At her heart's bidding her wits were on the move. I knew the maze that
they explored. She was asking for the Countess' secret. But which
secret? For to her it might well seem that there were two. Rumour said
that I had loved the Countess. It would be in the way of the natural
woman for Elsa to desire to find out why, the trick of the charm that a
predecessor (let the word pass) had wielded. But rumour said also that
the Countess had loved me. Was this the deeper harder secret that Elsa
sought to probe, this the puzzle to which she asked an answer? Perhaps,
could she find an answer that satisfied, there would be new heaven and
new earth for her. Here seemed to me the truth, the reason of the
longing question in her eyes. Jealousy could not inspire that; certainly
not a jealousy of what was long gone by, of a woman who to Elsa's fresh
girlhood must be faded and almost sunk to middle age. "How did you
contrive to love him?" That was Elsa's question, asked beneath my
understanding gaze.

There was a little stir by the door, and a man came through the group
that loitered round it, hastily shaking hands here, nodding there, as he
steered his course toward Princess Heinrich. I knew that Varvilliers
would come to the wedding, but had not been aware that he was already in
Forstadt. My companions did not notice him, but I watched his interview
with my mother. Even she unbent to him, disarmed by a courtesy that
overcame the protest of her judgment; she detained him in conversation
nearly ten minutes, and then pointed to where we were, directing him to
join us.

"Ah, here comes Varvilliers," said I. "I'm delighted to have him back.
You've met him, Countess?"

"Oh, yes, sire, in Paris," she answered.

For a few moments I kept my eyes from Elsa's face and looked toward
Varvilliers, smiling and beckoning. When I turned toward her she was
bright and composed. He joined