“Awfully ungrammatical, but very nice, and it seems as if she really loves you,” said the Cornet.

“H’m.⁠ ⁠… I should think so! It’s only women of that kind who love sincerely when once they do love.”

“And who was the other letter from?” asked the Cornet, handing back the one he had read.

“Oh, that’s so⁠ ⁠… there’s a man, a very horrid man, who won from me at cards, and he is reminding me of it for the third time.⁠ ⁠… I can’t let him have it at present.⁠ ⁠… A stupid letter!” said the Count, evidently vexed at the recollection.

After these words both officers were silent for a while. The Cornet, who was evidently under the Count’s influence, glanced now and then at the handsome though clouded countenance of Toúrbin⁠—who looked fixedly towards the window⁠—drank his tea silently, and did not venture to start a conversation.