His face was very grave; and she looked at him with perplexed, unhappy eyes.
"Oh, don't say that!" she said.

"Why should you mind saying anything to me ?" But the Comte de Virieu was both vexed and angry with himself.
"It is always folly to interfere in anyone else's affairs," he muttered.
"But I have this excuse--I happen to know that last week, or rather ten days ago, the Wachners were in considerable difficulty about money.

Then suddenly they seemed to have found plenty, in fact, to be as we say here, '_a flot_'; I confess that I foolishly imagined, nay, I almost hoped, that they owed this temporary prosperity to you! But of course I had no business to think about it at all--still less any business to speak to you about the matter.

Forgive me, I will not so err again." And then, with one of his sudden, stiff bows, the Comte de Virieu turned on his heel, leaving Sylvia to make her way alone to the little wooden gate on which were painted the words "Chalet des Muguets.".