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48 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
that I felt myself weakening. But instead of frankly-
accepting his invitation, I replied with a question
—
"The Baroness is quite well?
"
" She wasn’t very well yesterday ; in fact, she was really
ill, but she is better since this morning. My dear fellow,"
he added after a slight pause, " what passed between you
the night before last at Nacka? My wife says that you
had a misunderstanding, and that you are angry with her
without an}^ reason."
"Really," I answered, a little taken aback, "I don’t
know myself. Perhaps I had a little too much to drink.
I forgot myself."
"Let’s forget all about it then, will you? " he replied
briskly, "and let us be friends as before. Women are
often strangely touchy, as you knoAv. It’s all right, then ;
you’ll come, won’t you? To-day at four. Remember,
we are counting on you. . .
."
I had consented ! . . .
Unfathomable enigma ! A misunderstanding ! . . . But
she had been ill ! . . . Ill with fear . . . with anger . . .
with . . .
The fact that the little unknown cousin was about to
appear upon the scene added a new interest, and with
a beating heart I went on board the steamer at four
o’clock, as had been arranged.
The Baroness greeted me with sisterly kindness.
"You’re not angry with me because of my unkind
words? " she began. "I’m very excitable. . .
."
" Don’t let us speak about it," I replied, trying to find
her a seat behind the bridge.
"Mr. Axel . . . Miss Baby! ..."
The Baron was introducing us. I was looking at a girl
of about eighteen, of the soubrette type, exactly what I
had imagined. She was small, very ordinary-looking,
dressed simply, but with a certain striving after elegance.
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