Count Anteoni stepped forward to greet them.
"Monsieur Androvsky--Count Anteoni," she said.
The hands of the two men met. She saw that Androvsky's was lifted
reluctantly.
"Welcome to my garden," Count Anteoni said with his invariable easy
courtesy. "Every traveller has to pay his tribute to my domain. I dare
to exact that as the oldest European inhabitant of Beni-Mora."
Androvsky said nothing. His eyes were on the priest. The Count noticed
it, and added:
"Do you know Father Roubier?"
"We have often seen each other in the hotel," Father Roubier said with
his usual straightforward simplicity.
He held out his hand, but Androvsky bowed hastily and awkwardly and did
not seem to see it. Domini glanced at Count Anteoni, and surprised a
piercing expression in his bright eyes. It died away at once, and he
said:
"Let us go to the _salle-a-manger_. _Dejeuner_ will be ready, Miss
Enfilden."
She joined him, concealing her reluctance to leave Androvsky with the
priest, and walked beside him down the path, preceded by Bous-Bous.
"Is my _fete_ going to be a failure?" he murmured.
She did not reply.
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