“I should be deeply grateful,” answered the Marquis simply. “I have no acquaintances at the Court.” Carola did not answer; she was gazing out of the window. He had already, in Bohemia, guessed her to be a woman of few words, and this impression was confirmed, for the only opening for conversation they had--the campaign of last year--she never mentioned. The coach drove soon through the massive gates of an hotel that Luc took to be the residence of her brother-in-law, and the Marquis handed her out at the steps of the fine door; it was not the house that had been pointed out to him as the Hôtel Dubussy. As he alighted he noticed a light curricle pass along the street driven by a lady ostentatiously placed high and alone on the box with a black servant behind. Her dress was pale and showy; veils and ribbons flew behind her. The passers-by stared, and so did Luc, for he recognized in her fair, slightly over-opulent beauty the woman whom he had seen last night in the house opposite. “Who is that lady?” he asked, for the Countess was looking at her very keenly. Carola again gave him her full, almost blank glance. “I do not know,” she answered, rather strangely, he thought, then added, all in a breath, “Do not let us go into the house; I want to show you the garden.” She led the way to a door at the side of the mansion--a tall door with a ring-shaped handle--and, opening it, beckoned the Marquis to follow her. They went down a narrow stone passage with a wall one side and the house the other; then the opening of another gate admitted them into the garden. Luc had been prepared for splendour of statuary, walk, arbour, and fountain, after the designs of Lenôtre, or perhaps some Eastern fantasy of trellises and hanging creepers. What he saw, as Carola Koklinska motioned him to pass her, was utterly different. He found himself in a large garden bounded by high walls on all sides save one, where the sombre, dark pile of the mansion overshadowed it; a narrow, neglected gravel path ran round under the walls, from which it was only separated by an unkempt edging of long grass and thick-leaved weeds. At the extreme end of the garden, which was of considerable length, was a row of seven very tall poplar trees which caught the last rays of sunlight in their topmost branches. For the rest the garden was a mere stretch of fresh May-time grass neglected and growing tall enough to bend in a sad fashion before the slight evening breeze. Near the poplars was a plain wooden seat, and behind this showed the sole flowers in the garden--a clump of wallflowers growing out of, and on, the high brick wall. Luc noticed the poplars first, for their great height and straightness reminded him of the silver firs in Bohemia, then the flowers, their sturdy charm and the bold lustre of their colouring. “Do you like this place, Monsieur?” asked Carola, as she closed the door behind her.