“Suffering?” Nina repeated, wondering.  “I don’t know.  But it is only a business venture, his mining—­not a philanthropic one.  At least I have not heard about any poor people who are to be relieved.”

Zoya put her hands over her eyes and then her ears as though to shut out both sight and sound.  “Oh, it is horrible—­horrible in the sulphur mines!  You have no idea!  Nowhere in all the world is life so dreadful.”  She shuddered, “But I feel sure, somehow, that your friend the American will be able to do something.”

They went on talking until their tete-a-tete was interrupted by the men coming in from the dining-room.  The servants brought in a big card table.

“Are you going to play bridge?” Nina asked, feeling that the answer was obvious.

But the Contessa Masco, taking her cognac at a swallow, glanced at Tornik with a laugh.  “Oh, lord, no!  Nothing so dull, I hope, in this house!”

Derby joined Nina, and she looked up at him with pride.  “I am glad you are here to-night; I seem to be especially glad——­” She broke off, but her intonation conveyed unspoken thoughts.

Derby’s eyes kindled.  “Why especially?  Have you a particular reason, really?” His heart beat so hard, because of the sweetness in her expression, that it seemed to him she must hear it pounding, that she must look through the mask he wore, and read his love for her.

But his mask was impenetrable, and Nina answered lightly:  “I wonder which reason you would like me to give?  I wonder if it would make any real difference to you whether I said just glad—­or glad because of something?”

He forced himself to speak with a stolidity that walled in securely his threatening emotions.  “I am not a bit good at guessing the meaning of sentences that have no direct statement in them.  You see, they are not the kind my grammar book taught me!”

Nina smiled.  “You like a regular, straight-out, simple sentence with one subject and one predicate, don’t you?”

“That’s it!  And as few qualifying clauses as possible.”

“And as your speech is, so are your actions.  No time for trivialities.  Big, serious things!” To her surprise she felt a sharp pain in her throat.

“What an old bear I must seem to you——­” His sentence broke off as the Countess Masco interrupted them.

“Come along, John—­you’ll play, won’t you?  We are waiting!” Count Rosso had already deserted Zoya for the green table.

“Do you need me?” Derby asked.

“Of course we do!  The more the jollier; it is dreadfully dull without a lot.”

Nina and the Countess Zoya sat apart talking together until nearly midnight.  Finally, with a yawn, Zoya suggested that they try to break up the party.  For a little while they looked on.  Not understanding the game of baccarat, Nina watched the faces of the players.

Suddenly she felt uneasy about her uncle, who had taken a place at the table.  Knowing no reason why he should not play, she had thought nothing of that.  But now he was flushed, and seemed very excited.  Unconsciously taking a leaf out of her aunt’s book, she laid her hand on his shoulder.  Her touch was, in fact, so like that of his wife that the prince started violently, and a short while later relinquished his place.