not so, for Monsieur, for all his wickedness and infamous doings, still remains the handsomest gentleman in all the country round. But, come now, Monsieur, ought you not to be ashamed of yourself?”
“Because I am the handsomest gentleman in the neighbourhood?” asked Thibault, detecting by the tone of the lady’s voice that his crime was not an irremediable one.
“No, Monsieur, but for having the blackest soul and the falsest heart ever hidden beneath such a gay and golden exterior. Now, get up, and come and give an account of yourself to me.”
And the Countess so speaking held out a hand to Thibault which offered pardon at the same time that it demanded a kiss.
Thibault took the soft, sweet hand in his own and kissed it; never had his lips touched anything so like satin. The Countess now seated herself on the settee and made a sign to Raoul to sit down beside her.