and to show the others that they were already on their way home. They
arrived at the castle a quarter of an hour before the rest of the
company. Then they separated, and did not meet again until
supper-time. The huntsmen spent the interval talking over the day's
exploits, and the ladies were occupied with their toilettes.

Countess Angela told her aunt what had happened. She was incapable of
any sort of deceit. Lies, which come so easily to the lips of some
women, were impossible to her. If she did not tell a thing she kept
silent; but to speak what was not true--never! But what if Ivan
related to the men what had occurred? It was so much the habit to talk
over the day's sport, and make a jest of everything. Why should he not
make capital of such an adventure--a rescued lady--a beauty in
_deshabille_?

When supper-time came it struck every one that the countess had a
constrained manner, and closer observers noticed that she avoided
looking at Ivan. She was dressed all in black, which was, perhaps,
the reason that she was so pale. She was silent and preoccupied; she
was wondering if they all knew what Ivan knew. The gentlemen tried to
amuse her. They were full of the day's run, how the fox had doubled,
how they thought they would never catch him, how they regretted that
the countess had not been present, how unfortunate it was that she had
been on the opposite side of the mountain, but that it was far better
for her to have lost the run than to have ventured to leap the
crevice. That would, indeed, have been madness; an accident would
certainly have been the result. No one alluded to the fact that she
had met an ugly one; but, then, well-bred people never do allude to
anything unpleasant, which, though otherwise agreeable, has this
drawback, that one never knows how much or how little they know.

It was a remark of her cousin Edmund that convinced Angela eventually
that Ivan had kept his own counsel as to her accident.

"Did Behrend accompany you to the house?" he asked. (No one now called
him Ritter Magnet, nor were there any familiar jokes with him).

"Yes."

"And his escort was not agreeable to you?"

"What makes you say that?" inquired Angela, hastily.

"From Ivan's manner; he seems terribly down in his luck. He hasn't a
word to say to a dog, and he avoids looking at you. Don't you remark
it? You have, I think, made the place too hot for him; he won't stay
longer. Have I guessed right?"

"Yes, quite right.