"On my word, I forgot how public we were," said I. "My feelings ran away with me."
"Oh, why should you be ashamed? They might laugh, but I'm sure they envied you."
It was strange enough, but it is very likely that they did. For my own part, I have learned not to envy people without knowing a good deal about them and their affairs.
"Because," pursued Cousin Elizabeth, "I have always in my heart hated merely arranged marriages. They're not right, you know, Augustin. They may be necessary, but they're not right."
"Very necessary, but quite wrong," I agreed.
"And at one time I was the least bit afraid—However I was a silly old woman. Do look at her talking to your mother. Oh, of course, you were looking at her already. You weren't listening to my chatter."
But I had listened to Cousin Elizabeth's chatter. She had told me something of interest. Elsa would never change; she took a view and a relation toward a person and maintained them. What she was to me now she would be always.
"My dear cousin, I have listened with keen interest to every word that you've said," I protested truthfully.
"That's your politeness. I know what lovers are," said Cousin Elizabeth.
I looked across to the Duke's passive tired face. The thought crossed my mind that Cousin Elizabeth must have depended on observation rather than on experience for the impressions to which she referred. However she afforded me an opportunity for escape, which I embraced with alacrity.
