Part 4 (1/2)

”Stop, woman,” called the prince, ”you cannot possibly go out; the rain is pouring in torrents, and another shower is rising.”

”Yes, stay,” cried the countess, ”wait till the storm is over.”

”Oh, no! lodgings are being taken every minute, we must not lose an instant.” The next moment she threw a shawl over her head and left the house. She was just running past the low window--a vivid flash of lightning illumined the room, making the little bent figure stand forth like a silhouette. A peal of thunder quickly followed.

”The storm is just over us,” said the prince with kindly anxiety. ”We ought not to have let her go.”

”Oh, it is of no consequence,” said the old man smiling, ”she is glad to do it.”

”Tell me about these strange people,” the prince began, but the countess motioned to him that the child understood French. He looked at her with a comical expression as if he wanted to say: ”These are queer 'natives' who give their children so good an education.”

The countess went to the window, gazing uneasily at the raging storm. A feeling of self-reproach stole into her heart for having let the kind creature go out amid this uproar of the elements. Especially when these people would take no compensation and therefore lost a profit, if another lodging was found.

It was her loss, and yet she showed this cheerful alacrity.

The little party had now entered the living room. The countess sat on the window sill, while flash after flash of lightning blazed, and peal after peal crashed from the sky. She no longer thought of herself, only of the poor woman outside. The little girl wept softly over her poor mother's exposure to the storm, and slipped to the door to wait for her. The prince, s.h.i.+vering, sat on the bench by the stove. Gross, noticing it, put on more fuel ”that the gentleman might dry himself.” A bright fire was soon crackling in the huge green stove, the main support of the sunken ceiling.

”Pray charge the fuel to me,” said the prince, ashamed.

The old man smiled.

”How you gentle-folks want to pay for everything. We should have needed a fire ourselves.” With these words he left the room. The thin sister now thought it desirable not to disturb the strangers and also went out.

”Tell me, Countess,” the prince began, leaning comfortably against the warm stove, ”may I perfume this, by no means agreeable, atmosphere with a cigarette?”

”Certainly, I had forgotten that there were such things as cigarettes in the world.”

”So it seems to me,” said the prince, coolly. ”Tell me, _chere amie_, now that you have duly enjoyed all the tremors of this romantic situation, how should you like a cup of tea?”

”Tea?” said the countess, looking at him as if just roused from a dream, ”tea!”

”Yes, tea,” persisted the prince. ”My poor friend, you must have lived an eternity in this one hour among these 'savages' to have already lost the memory of one of the best products of civilization.”

”Tea,” repeated the countess, who now realized her exhaustion, ”that would be refres.h.i.+ng, but I don't know how to get it, I sent the maid away.”

”Yes, I met the dismissed couple in a state of utter despair. And I can imagine that my wors.h.i.+pped Countess Madeleine--the most pampered and spoiled of all the children of fortune and the fas.h.i.+onable world--does not know how to help herself. I am by no means sorry, for I shall profit by it. I can now pose as a kind Providence. What good luck for a lover! is it not? So permit me to supply the maid's place--so far as this is _practicable_. I have tea with me and my valet whom, thank Heaven, I was not obliged to send away, is waiting your order to serve it.”

”How kind you are, Prince. But consider that kitchen filled with flies.”

”Oh, you need not feel uncomfortable on that score. You are evidently unused to the mountains. I know these flies, they are different from our city ones and possess a peculiar skill in keeping out of food. Try it for once.”

”Yes, but we must first ascertain whether I can get the other room,”

said the countess, again lapsing into despondency.

”My dearest Countess, does that prevent our taking any refreshment?

Don't be so spiritless,” said the prince laughing.

”Oh, it's all very well to laugh. The situation is tragical enough, I a.s.sure you.”

”Tragical enough to pay for the trouble of developing a certain grandeur of soul, but not, in true womanly fas.h.i.+on, to lose all composure.”