The countess did not move. She was dressed as on the evening of the supper at Prince Conrad's villa. Her face showed no longer any fear or alarm, but rather an effort of thought, as though she were trying to calculate all the consequences of the position now revealed to her. Paul Delroze? With what object was he attacking her? His intention--and this was evidently the idea that gradually caused the Comtesse Hermine's features to relax--his intention no doubt was to procure his wife's liberty. She smiled. Élisabeth a prisoner in Germany: what a trump card for herself, caught in a trap but still able to command events! At a sign from Paul, Bernard stepped forward and Paul said to the countess: "My brother-in-law. Major Hermann, when he lay trussed up in the ferryman's house, may have seen him, just as he may have seen me. But, in any case, the Comtesse Hermine--or, to be more exact, the Comtesse d'Andeville--does not know or at least has forgotten her son, Bernard d'Andeville." She now seemed quite reassured, still wearing the air of one fighting with equal or even more powerful weapons. She displayed no confusion at the sight of Bernard, and said, in a careless tone: "Bernard d'Andeville is very like his sister Élisabeth, of whom circumstances have allowed me to see a great deal lately. It is only three days since she and I were having supper with Prince Conrad. The prince is very fond of Élisabeth, and he is quite right, for she is charming . . . and so amiable!" Paul and Bernard both made the same movement, which would have ended in their flinging themselves upon the countess, if they had not succeeded in restraining their hatred. Paul pushed aside his brother-in-law, of whose intense anger he was conscious, and replied to his adversary's challenge in an equally casual tone: "Yes, I know all about it; I was there. I was even present at her departure. Your friend Karl offered me a seat in his car and we went off to your place at Hildensheim: a very handsome castle, which I should have liked to see more thoroughly. . . . But it is not a safe house to stay at; in fact, it is often deadly; and so . . ." The countess looked at him with increasing disquiet. What did he mean to convey? How did he know these things? She resolved to frighten him in his turn, so as to gain some idea of the enemy's plans, and she said, in a hard voice: "Yes, deadly is the word. The air there is not good for everybody." "A poisonous air." "Just so." "And are you nervous about Élisabeth?" "Frankly, yes. The poor thing's health is none of the best, as it is; and I shall not be easy . . ." "Until she's dead, I suppose?" She waited a second or two and then retorted, speaking very clearly, so that Paul might take in the meaning of her words: "Yes, until she is dead. . . . And that can't be far off . . . if it has not happened already."