If any one had asked the Doctor if he loved the Countess, he would have answered that he certainly did not.  That she was the most beautiful woman in the world, that she represented to him his highest ideal, and that he was certain she came up to that ideal, although he knew her so little, for he felt sure of that.  But love, the Doctor thought, was quite a different affair.  What he felt for Margaret bore no resemblance to what he had been used to call love.  Besides, he would have said, did ever a man fall in love at such short notice?  Only in books.  But as no one asked him the question, he did not ask it of himself, but only went on thinking a great deal of her, and recalling all she said.  He was in an unknown region, but he was happy and he asked no questions.  Nevertheless his nature comprehended hers, and when he began to go often to the beautiful little villa, he knew perfectly well that Barker was mistaken, and that the dark Countess would think twice and three times before she would be persuaded to go to America, or to write a book, or to do anything in the world for Claudius, except like him and show him that he was welcome.  She would have changed the subject had Claudius proposed to her to do any of the things he seemed to think she was ready to do, and Claudius knew it instinctively.  He was bold with women, but he never transgressed, and his manner allowed him to say many things that would have sounded oddly enough in Mr. Barker’s mouth.  He impressed women with a sense of confidence that he might be trusted to honour them and respect them under any circumstances.

The Countess was accustomed to have men at her feet, but she had never treated a man unjustly, and if they had sometimes lost their heads it was not her fault.  She was a loyal woman, and had loved her husband as much as most good wives, though with an honest determination to love him better; for she was young when they married, and she thought her love stronger than it really was.  She had mourned him sincerely, but the wound had healed, and being a brave woman, with no morbid sensitiveness of herself, she had contemplated the possibility of marrying again, without, however, connecting the idea with any individual.  She had liked Claudius from the first, and there had been something semi-romantic about their meeting in the Schloss at Heidelberg.  On nearer acquaintance she liked him better, though she knew that he admired her, and by the time a fortnight had passed Claudius had become an institution.  They read together and they walked together, and once she took him with her in the black phaeton, whereupon Barker remarked that it was “an immense thing on wheels.”

Mr. Barker, seeing that his companion was safe for the present, left Baden for a time and lighted on his friend the Duke at Como, where the latter had discovered some attractive metal.  The Duke remarked that Como would be a very decent place if the scenery wasn’t so confoundedly bad.  “I could beat it on my own place in the west,” he added.