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Updated: June 25, 2025
Alone among all the people in the room, the Comte de Virieu looked as if he lived a more or less outdoor life; his face was tanned, his blue eyes were very bright, and the hands dealing out the cards were well-shaped and muscular. Somehow he looked very different, she could hardly explain how or why, from the men round him. At last she moved round, so as to avoid being opposite to him.
Chester stared back at him, telling himself angrily as he did so that he did not in the least know what the Frenchman was driving at! What did Paul de Virieu mean by saying this stupid, obvious thing, and why should he drag in the question of his being happy or unhappy? "You know that I did my best to persuade her to leave the place," said Chester shortly.
What is it you wish to ask me? I couldn't hear you properly. We were going too fast." "Is it possible, is it conceivable, that you are thinking of marrying this Frenchman?" "No," said Sylvia, very quietly, "I am not thinking of marrying the Comte de Virieu. But he is my friend. I I like and respect him. No, Bill, you need not fear that the Comte de Virieu will ever ask me to become his wife."
And she had asked her brother no tiresome, indiscreet questions as to his relations with the young Englishwoman, whether, for instance, he was really fond of Sylvia, whether it was conceivably possible that he was thinking of marrying her? And, truth to tell, Paul de Virieu would have found it very difficult to give an honest answer to the question.
The Comte de Virieu did not gaze at the young English woman with the bold, impersonal stare to which she had become accustomed his glance was far more thoughtful, questioning, and in a sense kindly. But his eyes seemed to pierce her through and through, and suddenly her heart began to beat very fast. Yet no colour came into her face indeed, Sylvia grew pale.
During the first days, when Sylvia had been really very anxious and troubled, she had had cause to be grateful to the Wachners for their sympathy; for whereas Paul de Virieu seemed only interested in Anna Wolsky because she, Sylvia, herself was interested, both Madame Wachner and her morose, silent husband showed real concern and distress at the mysterious lack of news.
"You will remember me to your sister, to to the Duchesse," faltered Sylvia. Chester looked at her sharply. This Frenchman's sister? The Duchesse? how very intimate Sylvia seemed to be with the fellow! As the Count turned and sauntered back to the house she said rather breathlessly, "The Comte de Virieu has been very kind to me, Bill.
Madame Wachner spoke very quickly, almost breathlessly, and Sylvia felt vaguely uncomfortable. There was, of course, only one person to whom she was likely to mention the fact, and that was Paul de Virieu. Was it possible that Madame Wachner wished to warn her against telling him of a fact which he was sure to discover for himself in the course of a day or two?
"The poor man had not one penny piece till she came in, and he got so angry and impatient waiting for her! I really felt inclined to lend him a little money; but I have made it a rule never to lend money in a Casino; it only leads to unpleasantness afterwards." In the hall of the Villa du Lac the Comte de Virieu was standing reading a paper.
As they went back into the Casino they could hear the people round them talking of the Comte de Virieu, and of the high play that had gone on at the club that evening. "No, he is winning now," they heard someone say. And Madame Wachner looked anxious. If Count Paul were winning, then her Fritz must be losing. And alas! her fears were justified.
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