Then, quickly, she went to get the Countess's coffee.
I remained alone in the little parlor; I wanted to see more, to learn more. At the end of five minutes the young man whom Miss Spencer had described as the Countess's pupil came in. He stood looking at me for a moment with parted lips. I saw he was a very rudimentary young man.
"She wants to know if you won't come out there," he observed at last.
"Who wants to know?"
"The Countess. That French lady."
"She has asked you to bring me?"
"Yes, sir," said the young man feebly, looking at my six feet of stature.
I went out with him, and we found the Countess sitting under one of the little quince-trees in front of the house. She was drawing a needle through the piece of embroidery which she had taken from the small table. She pointed graciously to the chair beside her, and I seated myself. Mr. Mixter glanced about him, and then sat down in the grass at her feet. He gazed upward, looking with parted lips from the Countess to me.
"I am sure you speak French," said the Countess, fixing her brilliant little eyes upon me.
"I do, madam, after a fashion," I answered in the lady's own tongue.
"Voilà!" she cried most expressively. "I knew it so soon as I looked at you. You have been in my poor dear country."
