We returned to the chateau at about two in the
afternoon. The count kept me with him until dinner-time, under the
pretext of looking for some medals, of which he had spoken during our
return home. The dinner was dull. The countess treated her nephew with
stiff and cold politeness. When we entered the drawing-room the count
said to his wife:
"Are you going to play backgammon?--We will leave you."
The young countess made no reply. She gazed at the fire, as if she had
not heard. Her husband took some steps towards the door, inviting me
by the wave of his hand to follow him. At the sound of his footsteps,
his wife quickly turned her head.
"Why do you leave us?" said she, "you will have all tomorrow to show
your friend the reverse of the medals."
The count remained. Without paying any attention to the awkwardness
which had succeeded the former military aplomb of his nephew, the
count exercised during the whole evening his full powers as a charming
conversationalist. I had never before seen him so brilliant or so
gracious. We spoke a great deal about women. The witticisms of our
host were marked by the most exquisite refinement. He made me forget
that his hair was white, for he showed the brilliancy which belonged
to a youthful heart, a gaiety which effaces the wrinkles from the
cheek and melts the snow of wintry age.
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