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Updated: May 25, 2025
"I am not sure," Norgate observed, "that she was altogether satisfied with the results of her visit to Rome." The Comtesse's fan fluttered slowly back and forth. She looked for a moment or two idly upon the brilliant scene. The smooth garden paths, the sheltered seats, the lawns themselves, were crowded with little throngs of women in exquisite toilettes, men in uniform and Court dress.
"A month later Mademoiselle Yvette Samoris died mysteriously, and here are all the details of her death I could gather from Joseph, who got them from his sweetheart, the comtesse's chambermaid. "It was a ball night, and two newly arrived guests were chatting behind a door. Mademoiselle Yvette, who had just been dancing, leaned against this door to get a little air.
Among these the Comtesse de Tournay de Basserive, but lately arrived from France, was a most conspicuous figure: dressed in deep, heavy black silk, with only a white lace kerchief to relieve the aspect of mourning about her person, she sat beside Lady Portarles, who was vainly trying by witty sallies and somewhat broad jokes, to bring a smile to the Comtesse's sad mouth.
Duchesne was correct in all his calculations. I had scarcely reached the Luxembourg when a valet brought me a card for the comtesse's soirée for that evening. It was accordingly agreed upon that we were to go together; I as the invited, he as my friend. "All your finery, Burke, remember that," said he, as we separated to dress.
Neeld refused; the Colonel took both. "You may imagine with what feelings I heard your story," Edge resumed, "and found that the Comtesse's fraud was really the entire basis of your action. If I had been in England the thing need never have happened." "It has happened," said Harry, "and and I don't quite know where we are."
"Pray wait wait a minute or two," begged Harry. "I want to think for a minute." Neeld sat down again. It is very likely they were as surprised at him as he was childishly vexed with them. For he exhibited perfect calm. Yet perhaps Colonel Edge, who had given so colorless an account of the Comtesse's wild appeal to him, was well suited.
Never before had such fine eyes looked into his with such an unmistakable challenge to flirtation. He was almost certain that he felt the Comtesse's hand press his arm slightly. He grew pink in the face with pleasure. "We must tell my niece." She leaned towards Captain Twinely and whispered in his ear. Her breath touched his cheek. The delicate, faint scent of her clothes reached him.
He remembered Una's shriek and the Comtesse's frantic struggles as the soldiers dragged them from their hiding-place. Of his own rush to their rescue he remembered little save the momentary delight of feeling his fists get home on the men's faces. He had nerved himself now with memories and conquered his qualms.
"So that's it, is it?" she said gaily. "La! Sir Andrew, did you ever see such an unpleasant person? I hope when I grow old I sha'n't look like that." She gathered up her skirts and assuming a majestic gait, stalked towards the fireplace. "Suzanne," she said, mimicking the Comtesse's voice, "I forbid you to speak to that woman!"
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