“I, too, love afternoon tea!” cried Madame Wachner, in a merry tone.  “Then that is settled!  You and I will take a drive, and then we will ’ave tea and then go to the Casino.”

Mrs. Bailey accompanied her friend upstairs while Anna put on her things and got out her money.

“You will enjoy a drive on this hot day, even with that funny old woman,” said Madame Wolsky, affectionately.  “And meanwhile I will get your membership card made out for the Club.  If you like to do so, you might have a little gamble this evening.  But I do not want my sweet English friend to become as fond of play as I am myself”—­there crept a sad note into her voice.  “However, I do not think there is any fear of that!”

When the two friends came downstairs again, they found Monsieur and Madame Wachner standing close together and speaking in a low voice.  As she came nearer to them Sylvia saw that they were so absorbed in each other that they did not see her, and she heard the man saying in a low, angry voice, in French:  “There is nothing to be done here at all, Sophie!  It is foolish of us to waste our time like this!” And then Madame Wachner answered quickly, “You are always so gloomy, so hopeless!  I tell you there is something to be done.  Leave it to me!”

Then, suddenly becoming aware that Sylvia was standing beside her, the old woman went on:  “My ’usband, Madame, always says there is nothing to be done!  You see, ’e is tired of ’is last system, and ’e ’as not yet invented another.  But, bah!  I say to ’im that no doubt luck will come to-day.  ’E may find Madame Wolsky a mascot.”  She was very red and looked disturbed.

“I ’ave asked them to telephone for an open carriage,” Madame Wachner added, in a better-humoured tone.  “It will be here in three or four minutes.  Shall we drive you first to the Casino?” This question she asked of her husband.

“No,” said Monsieur Wachner, harshly, “certainly not!  I will walk in any case.”

“And I will walk too,” said Anna, who had just come up.  “There is no need at all for us to take you out of your way.  You had better drive at once into the open country, Sylvia.”

And so they all started, Madame Wolsky and her tall, gaunt, morose companion, walking, while Sylvia and Madame Wachner drove off in the opposite direction.

The country immediately round Lacville is not pretty; the little open carriage was rather creaky, and the horse was old and tired, and yet Sylvia Bailey enjoyed her drive very much.

Madame Wachner, common-looking, plain, almost grotesque in appearance though she was, possessed that rare human attribute, vitality.

Sometimes she spoke in French, sometimes in English, changing from the one to the other with perfect ease; and honestly pleased at having escaped a long, dull, hot afternoon in the Casino, the older woman set herself to please and amuse Sylvia.  She thoroughly succeeded.  A clever gossip, she seemed to know a great deal about all sorts of interesting people, and she gave Sylvia an amusing account of Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, whose splendid chateau they saw from their little carriage.