"I suppose you would. I suppose you would. I should have been, at one time, when I first began; but not now. Besides, it suits everybody all right. You see, you don't understand."
"No, don't. It's only hell a bit before one's time. But I didn't stop you to talk about this. I don't quite know why I did stop you now;" and he ran his hand across his forehead as if striving to remember.
A painful gesture, almost pathetic and intensely suggestive.
"I suppose it was just a wish to speak to you, that's all," he said at length, wearily. "Oh, I know. You reminded me so much of--of another Christabel of the name you mentioned, Christabel von Dreschler, that I wondered if you could be any relation. You _are_ an American, are you not?"
"But she was American. I knew her in New York years ago. Lord, what long years ago. You are not a relation of hers?"
"I have no relative of that name, Count Karl."
"That's just what I've been asking myself these two days. It wouldn't have been any good, would it? And yet--" he sighed--"yet I think I should have been drawn to speak pretty freely to you."
He turned at the pointed question and looked quizzically at me. "I wonder. You're so like her, you see."
He started resentfully at the thrust. Coming from me it must have sounded very much like impertinence.
"Miss Gilmore, I----" then he smiled in his feeble, nothing-matters manner. "Of course that's a question I can't answer, and you oughtn't to ask. But life's much too stupid for one to take offence when it isn't meant. And I don't suppose you meant any, did you?"
"No, on the contrary. I should very much like to be your friend," I said, very earnestly.
"Would you? I daresay you would. Lots of people would like to be the friend of the Duke Ladislas' eldest son. If they only knew! What humbug it all is."
"I daresay you have a motive in that clever little brain of yours. No clever people do anything without one, and they both agree you're clever and sharp. I wonder what it is. Tell me."
"'They both?'" I repeated, catching at his words.
His face clouded with passing doubt and then cleared as he understood. "I'm getting stupid again; but you don't get stupid. You know what Henriette and Gustav are in my life. You've spotted it, of course. It saves a heap of trouble to have some one to think for you. You mayn't believe it--you like to think for yourself; but it does, a regular heap of bother. And after all, the chief thing in life is to dodge trouble, isn't it?"