Anne shook her head.  “She is hedged about like royalty.  That dreadful Josef prescribes every minute of her day.  It must be a great bore to live in the way she has done.  I met her once, however.  Do you know, Frank, she had never heard of Nick van Rensselaer, and when I told her he had wanted to send her abroad before her fortune came she seemed amazed.  Of course, your mother denied the fact that it was Mr. van Rensselaer who enabled her to come; but I always believed it was he, didn’t you?”

“You are complimenting mother’s veracity,” Frank answered, laughing.  “If she said it was not Mr. van Rensselaer, as a dutiful son I am bound to believe it, am I not?”

“Doubtless,” Anne answered, smiling.  “By-the-way, Madame de Nemours has left with me an invitation for you to dine with her on Friday.”

“Shall we hear Miss Dulany sing, do you suppose?” Frank asked, quietly, unimportantly.

“I don’t know.  She has never dined with us when I have been there.  I believe she is allowed frivolities but once a fortnight.  Perhaps—­” But before she finished a maid entered with Madame de Nemours’ card.  “You can ask for yourself,” Anne explained, glancing at the card.  “Here is the Countess in person.”

It had grown dark in the room, and Frank stood in the shadow as he was presented to the Countess, who had come with the hope of meeting him, for Katrine’s sudden resolve to go to Fontainebleau had not deceived her at all.  By that process of seemingly illogical reasoning by which women arrive accurately at facts, she had come to the conclusion that Katrine had gone away to avoid meeting either Anne Lennox or this Mr. Ravenel, and a far less brilliant woman than Madame de Nemours would have suspected Frank of being the man who had caused Katrine such pain in the past.  That she had lived on his plantation, and that there must have been many opportunities for them to have been constantly together, unnoted in a place twenty miles from any dwelling, made the thing doubly sure.  And so Madame de Nemours, by reason of her intuitions, met Francis Ravenel upon the defensive for this girl whom she had learned to love so deeply.

“I am in despair,” the Countess said, after the greetings had been exchanged.  “Here am I giving a dinner to distinguished Americans,” this with a little complimentary gesture toward both of them, “on Friday, and Katrine Dulany ordered off to Fontainebleau by that terrible Josef.  ’You are not well!’ said he.  ’Go on such a day, on such a train, to such a place!  Say this!  Think this!  Imagine this!’ And the poor child went off yesterday for a month to Fontainebleau, afraid to disobey.  Do you know, I am thinking,” she went on, “of adopting this strange child, Katrine, legally, just to circumvent Josef?  For that, and other reasons,” she explained, laughing, “I am so sorry you are not to meet her, Mr. Ravenel.”

“I have met Miss Dulany frequently,” Frank answered.  “In Carolina, three years ago.  Every one there was interested in her voice.”