"I?" laughed that young lady, turning her flushed face from her aunt to her uncle.
"Yes, you did," repeated the vicomte, "and you are not the niece that I love any more. Where have you been? And you, Dorothy Marche?--your hair is very much tangled."
"We have been lunching by the Lisse," said Dorothy, "and Jack caught a gudgeon; here it is."
"Pooh!" said the old vicomte; "I must show them how to fish. Helen, I shall go fishing--"
"Some time," said his wife, gently. "Betty, where are the men?"
"Jack and Barbara Lisle are fishing; Sir Thorald and Lady Hesketh are in the green boat, and Ricky is rowing them. The others are somewhere. Ricky got a telegram, and must go to Berlin."
"Tell Rickerl von Elster that his king is making mischief," laughed the vicomte, "and he may go back to Berlin when he chooses." Then, smiling at the young, flushed faces, he leaned on his wife's arm and passed slowly along the terrace towards the house.
"I wonder why Lorraine has not come?" he said to his wife. "Won't she come to-night for the dance?"
"Lorraine is a very sweet but a very uncertain girl," replied Madame de Morteyn. She led him through the great bay-window opening on the terrace, drew his easy-chair before his desk, placed the journals before him, and, stooping, kissed him.
"If you want me, send Charles. I really ought to be with the young people a moment. I wonder why Ricky must leave?"
"How far away are you going, Helen?"
"Only to the Lisse."
"Then I shall read about Monsieur Bismarck and his Spanish friends until you come. The day is long without you."
They smiled at each other, and she sat down by the window.
"Read," she said; "I can see my children from here. I wonder why Ricky is leaving?"
Suddenly, in the silence of the summer noon, far in the east, a dull sound shook the stillness. Again they heard it--again, and again--a deep boom, muttering, reverberating like summer thunder.
"Why should they fire cannon to-day, Helen?" asked the old man, querulously. "Why should they fire cannon beyond the Rhine?"
"It is thunder," she said, gently; "it will storm before long."
"I am tired," said the vicomte. "Helen, I shall sleep. Sit by me--so--no--nearer yet! Are the children happy?"
"Yes, dear."
"When the cannon cease, I shall fall asleep. Listen! what is that?"
"A blackbird singing in the pear-tree."
"And what is that--that sound of galloping? Look out and see, Helen."
"It is a gendarme riding fast towards the Rhine."