“Destiny is playing a strange game with us,” said Edith, who had seated herself in one of the little basket chairs, while Heideck remained standing near the door.  “I confess that since the arrival of the news of the victory I have spent some terrible hours, for the Kennedys have, in consequence, abandoned their idea of leaving, and seem to take it for granted that I shall remain with them in India.”

“And would you not, in fact, be forced to do so, my dearest Edith?”

“So then you have already reckoned with this contingency?  You would not, surely, think of travelling without me?  But perhaps you would even feel relieved at being freed from me?”

“How can you say such things, Edith, which, I am sure, you do not believe?”

“Who knows?  You are ambitious, and we poor women are never worse off than when we have to do with ambitious men.”

“But there is probably no necessity for us to torment ourselves with the discussion of such contingencies.  I have never for a moment believed in any alteration of our arrangements for the journey.”

“That is to say you doubt the trustworthiness of the report of the victory?”

“To speak frankly, I do.  I did not wish to mortify the old gentleman and spoil his shortlived joy.  That is the reason why I did not express my distrust in his presence.  But the despatch does not really convey the impression of being true.  It does not even contain a more exact statement of the place where the battle is said to have taken place.  It must, at least, strike the unprejudiced observer as being very suspicious.”

“But who would take the trouble to obtain the melancholy satisfaction of deceiving the world in such a manner for a short time?”

“Oh, there are many who would be interested in doing so.  In the course of every war such false reports are always floating about, in most cases without their origin being known.  It may be a money-market manoeuvre.”

“So you think it quite impossible that we can beat the Russians?”

“Not exactly impossible, but extremely improbable—­at least while the military situation remains what it is.  Again, it is the absence of definite information that surprises me.  A victorious general always finds time to communicate details, which the vanquished is only too glad to defer.  I am convinced that the bad news will soon follow, and that, as far as our plans for the journey are concerned, everything will remain as before.”

Edith was silent.  Her belief in Heideck was so unbounded that his words had completely convinced her.  But they did not restore the joyful confidence of the last few days.

“Everything will remain as before?” she said at length.  “That means you will leave us at Brindisi.”

“Certainly.  There is no other way for me to reach the army.”

“And suppose you abandon the idea of returning to the army altogether?  Have you never thought that we might find another foundation on which to build our future happiness?”