"Well, Colonel, we will play a game and show him how it is done."Fitzgerald drew up a chair and sat down at Madame's elbow.He followed every move she made because he had never seen till now so round and shapely an arm, hands so small and white, tipped with pink filbert nails.He did not learn the game so quickly as might be.He, like Maurice, was pondering over the unusual position in which he found himself; but analysis of any sort was not his forte; so he soon forgot all save the delicate curve of Madame's chin and throat, the soft ripple of her laughter, the abysmal gray of her eyes.
"Monsieur le Capitaine," said the countess, "what shall I sing to you?""To me?" said Maurice."Something from Abt."Her fingers ran lightly over the keys, and presently her voice rose in song, a song low, sweet, and sad.Maurice peered out of the window into the shades of night.Visions passed and repassed the curtain of darkness.Once or twice the countess turned her head and looked at him.It was not only a handsome face she saw, but one that carried the mark of refinement....Maurice was thinking of the lonely princess and her grave dark eyes.He possessed none of that power from which princes derive benefits;what could he do? And why should he interest himself in a woman who, in any event, could never be anything to him, scarcely even a friend? He smiled.
If Fitzgerald was not adept at analysis, he was.Nothing ever entered his mind or heart that he could not separate and define.
It was strange; it was almost laughable; to have fenced as long and adroitly as he had fenced, and then to be disarmed by one who did not even understand the foils! Surrender? Why not?...
By and by his gaze traveled to the chess players.There was another game than chess being played there, though kings and queens and knights and bishops were still the sum of it.
"Are you so very far away, then?" The song had ceased; the countess was looking at him curiously.
"Thank you," he said; "indeed, you had taken me out of myself.""Do you like chestnuts?" she asked suddenly.
"I am very fond of them."
"Then I shall fetch some." It occurred to her that the room was very warm; she wanted a breath of air--alone.
"Checkmate!" cried the Colonel, joyfully.
"Do you begin to understand?" asked Madame.
"A little," admitted Fitzgerald, who did not wish to learn too quickly."I like to watch the game.""So do I," said Maurice, who had approached the table."I should like to know what the game is, too."Both Madame and the Colonel appeared to accept the statement and not the innuendo.Madame placed the figures on the board.
Maurice strolled over to the table and aimlessly glanced through the Vienna illustrated weeklies.He saw Franz Josef in characteristic poses, full-page engravings of the military maneuvers and reproductions of the notable paintings.He picked up an issue dated June.A portrait of the new Austrian ambassador to France attracted his attention.He turned the leaf.
What he saw on the following page caused him to widen his eyes and let slip an ejaculation loud enough to be heard by the chess players.Madame seemed on the point of rising.Maurice did not lower his eyes nor Madame hers.
"Checkmate in three moves, Madame!" exclaimed the Colonel; "it is wonderful.""What's the matter, Maurice?" asked Fitzgerald.
"Jack, I am a ruined man."
"How? What?" nearly upsetting the board.
"I just this moment remember that I left my gas burning at the hotel, and it is extra."The Colonel and Fitzgerald lay back in their chairs and roared with laughter.
But Madame did not even smile.
