“I must take Edward’s part,” struck in the Baroness.  “Charlotte was not altogether without fault—­not altogether free from what we must call prudential considerations; and although she had a real, hearty love for Edward, and did in her secret soul intend to marry him, I can bear witness how sorely she often tried him; and it was through this that he was at last unluckily prevailed upon to leave her and go abroad, and try to forget her.”

Edward bowed to the Baroness, and seemed grateful for her advocacy.

“And then I must add this,” she continued, “in excuse for Charlotte.  The man who was at that time suing for her, had for a long time given proofs of his constant attachment to her; and, when one came to know him well, was a far more lovable person than the rest of you may like to acknowledge.”

“My dear friend,” the Count replied, a little pointedly, “confess, now, that he was not altogether indifferent to yourself, and that Charlotte had more to fear from you than from any other rival.  I find it one of the highest traits in women, that they continue so long in their regard for a man, and that absence of no duration will serve to disturb or remove it.”

“This fine feature, men possess, perhaps, even more,” answered the Baroness.  “At any rate, I have observed with you, my dear Count, that no one has more influence over you than a lady to whom you were once attached.  I have seen you take more trouble to do things when a certain person has asked you, than the friend of this moment would have obtained of you, if she had tried.”

“Such a charge as that one must bear the best way one can,” replied the Count.  “But as to what concerns Charlotte’s first husband, I could not endure him, because he parted so sweet a pair from each other—­a really predestined pair, who, once brought together, have no reason to fear the five years, or be thinking of a second or third marriage.”

“We must try,” Charlotte said, “to make up for what we then allowed to slip from us.”

“Aye, and you must keep to that,” said the Count; “your first marriages,” he continued, with some vehemence, “were exactly marriages of the true detestable sort.  And, unhappily, marriages generally, even the best, have (forgive me for using a strong expression) something awkward about them.  They destroy the delicacy of the relation; everything is made to rest on the broad certainty out of which one side or other, at least, is too apt to make their own advantage.  It is all a matter of course; and they seem only to have got themselves tied together, that one or the other, or both, may go their own way the more easily.”

At this moment, Charlotte, who was determined once for all that she would put an end to the conversation, made a bold effort at turning it, and succeeded.  It then became more general.  She and her husband and the Captain were able to take a part in it.  Even Ottilie had to give her opinion; and the dessert was enjoyed in the happiest humor.  It was particularly beautiful, being composed almost entirely of the rich summer fruits in elegant baskets, with epergnes of lovely flowers arranged in exquisite taste.