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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 question took her utterly by surprise. But the Comte de Virieu's next words at once relieved, and yes, it must be admitted, chagrined her. "I ask you, Madame, to leave Lacville! I ask permission to tell you frankly and plainly that it is not a place to which you ought to have been brought." He spoke with great emphasis. Sylvia looked up at him.
Perhaps women liked that sort of thing, but he would never have thought Sylvia Bailey to be that sort of woman. A change came over Paul de Virieu's face. There was unmistakable relief nay, more even joy in the voice with which the Frenchman answered, "That is excellent! That is quite right! That is first-rate! Yes, yes, Mr. Chester, you go back to Lacville and bring her away.
"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."
He now liked nay, he now respected Paul de Virieu. But for the Count, whom he had thought to be nothing more than an effeminate dandy, a hopeless gambler, where would Sylvia be now? The unspoken answer to this question gave Chester a horrible inward tremor. He leant forward, and grasped Paul de Virieu's left hand.
As you say, the Comte de Virieu's room is now empty, but" he hesitated, and with a sly look added, "indeed we have another room empty to-night a far finer room, with a view over the lake the room Madame Bailey occupied." "The room Mrs. Bailey occupied?" echoed Chester. "Has Mrs. Bailey changed her room to-day?" "Oh, no, M'sieur! She left Lacville this very evening.
Sylvia reddened faintly, for she fully expected the Count to ask her if she would ride with him, and she had already made up her mind to say "No," though to say "Yes" would be very pleasant! But he did nothing of the sort. Even at this early hour of their acquaintance it struck Sylvia how unlike the Comte de Virieu's manner to her was to that of the other young men she knew.
I shall leave Lacville to-night for I do not care to stay on here after you have taunted me with having come back to see you!" Sylvia gave a little cry of protest. "How unkind you are, Count Paul!" She still tried to speak lightly, but the tears were now rolling down her cheeks and then in a moment she found herself in Paul de Virieu's arms. She felt his heart beating against her breast.
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!
Comte Paul de Virieu's heart began to beat. But, bah! This was absurd! His day of love and love-making lay far, far behind him. He rose and walked towards the door. In speaking to her as he had forced himself to speak, the Frenchman had done an unselfish and kindly action.
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