It was in the entrance hall, where she was waiting for her carriage, and till it drove up Szilard could not very well leave her.
"Ah, ah! my honoured friend," cried the countess archly, "this won't do.
You wait till I am not at home, and then you go and leave your card upon me as a token of respect.

But I don't mean to let you off so easily.

I have got a lot to say to you which I am determined you shall listen to.

You must therefore promise to come to my house at twelve o'clock to-morrow, or else I shall astonish the world by inviting you to come along with me this instant in my carriage." A man, in another mood, could scarcely have resisted the temptation of replying that he would be delighted if the countess put her threat into execution then and there, even at the risk of astonishing the world.
Szilard merely looked grave and said that he would be happy to pay his respects to the countess at twelve on the morrow.
He went accordingly.

His pulses beat no more quickly than usual as he entered the countess's private apartment, although she gave the footman to understand in a low voice that she would be at home to nobody else, and invited the young man to sit down close beside her, face to face.
The countess was a beautiful woman, and she possessed the art of dressing beautifully likewise.