"If one is an Englishman," replied D'Arragon with a smile, "one may
think them where one likes, and say them when one is disposed. It
is one of the privileges of the nation, monsieur."

He made the statement lightly, seeing the humour of it with a
cosmopolitan understanding, without any suggestion of the
boastfulness of youth. Desiree noticed that his hair was turning
grey at the temples.

"I did not know," he said, turning to her, "that Charles was in
Dantzig, much less that he was celebrating so happy an occasion. We
ran against each other by accident in the street. It was a lucky
accident that allowed me to make your acquaintance so soon after you
have become his wife."

"It scarcely seems possible that it should be an accident," said
Desiree. "It must have been the work of fate--if fate has time to
think of such an insignificant person as myself and so small an
event as my marriage in these days."

"Fate," put in Mathilde in her composed voice and manner, "has come
to Dantzig to-day."

"Ah!"

"Yes. You are the second unexpected arrival this afternoon."

D'Arragon turned and looked at Mathilde. His manner, always grave
and attentive, was that of a reader who has found an interesting
book on a dusty shelf.