They stood in the window, talking with him and Graf von Trockenau, who was trying to recall the particulars of some place in the neighbourhood ‘which everyone ought to see,’ and in this endeavour he was feebly and ineffectually seconded by Hans von Lemde, whose profound studies in such literature as the _Almanach de Gotha_ had apparently disqualified him for more commonplace topics. Sara had seated herself beside a curious old painted spinet which stood at one side of the room. Frau von Trockenau was beside her, and Falkenberg was leaning on the aforesaid spinet talking to them, or rather listening while the countess talked to him. ‘It is a paradise of a place, Herr Falkenberg. There is nothing I should like better than to have such a place—only a week of it would be enough for me, because it is too small to have a large party in. It would be dull beyond expression after seven days, and you see my husband is not a financier—the very reverse, poor fellow!—so he could not afford to indulge me with such a toy for one week in the year.’ ‘I spend a good deal more than one week in the year here, _gnädige Frau_——’ ‘Ah, yes; but you have a great soul, like Miss Ford. I was telling her so this morning. You can exist without company and distractions.’ ‘Perhaps Herr Falkenberg does not care for visitors,’ suggested Sara, utterly unconscious of committing any solecism. ‘Perhaps the society of his wife and family is sufficient for him.’ ‘Sara!’ ejaculated the countess; and then, as if much entertained, the pretty little lady tried to stifle a laugh which would not be altogether repressed. Into Falkenberg’s eyes leaped a strange, disappointed expression; and at that moment they met those of Sara, who was looking up at him, surprised at his manner and at that of her friend. The man’s colour rose, and he laughed too, a little unsteadily, as he replied: ‘I am not so fortunate as Miss Ford imagines. I have neither wife nor child.’ ‘No wife!’ echoed Sara, in astonishment; and then, laughing too, but with a heightened colour, she said: ‘I am sure I beg your pardon. I don’t know what made me take it for granted that you were married. No one ever told me so. It was stupid of me.’