Fitzgerald's profound dissimulation caused a smile to cross Maurice's lips.
"Come, countess," said Maurice, gaily; "we'll take the ride together, since Madame has to write and my lord to read." "Five minutes until I dress," replied the countess, and she sped away.
"What a beautiful girl!" said Madame, fondly.

"Poor dear! Her life has not been a bed of roses." "No ?" said Maurice, while Fitzgerald raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
"No.

She was formerly a maid of honor to her Highness.

She made an unhappy marriage." "And where is the count ?" asked Fitzgerald in surprise.

He shot a glance of dismay at Maurice, who, translating it, smiled.
"He is dead." Fitzgerald looked relieved.
"What a fine thing it is," said Maurice, rising, "to be a man and wed where and how you will!" He withdrew to the main hall to don his cap and spurs.