"Nobody you know, or are likely to know. The occupant is a deservedly
prosperous manufacturer of excellent chocolate."
"Are you sure?" In her manner was suspicion, not quite allayed.
"Well--I have spent the last hour there--and many previous hours."
"Very likely. But I don't believe you."
"Am I a liar?"
"I really don't know."
"But you just said I was the only truthful man in Austria."
"Merely a form of speech. I meant relatively. You might be the most
truthful man in Austria and yet have no standing in heaven--or any
other honest resort."
Dr. Cervini smiled. "True, too true! But who told you our Diva was here
about?"
"A connoisseur. A judge of voices. One who could not be mistaken. He
heard her voice one evening, here, along this road."
"Was he sure it was the Diva?"
"Absolutely."
"Ah, now I understand. Delicious! Really, it's too good to keep to
ourselves. If we could only interview him together, you and I!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean my chocolate king has a young daughter, who sings. And she
sings--yes--she sings well. But, vocally, she bears about the same
resemblance to our Diva as a guinea chicken to a skylark."
"Could our connoisseur be quite such a fool as that?"
"A real connoisseur can be anything. But possibly he had dined too well
on that particular night. However, even when sober a musical critic
can----" He stopped abruptly, with a gesture of annoyance. "Oh, what
a memory! My humblest apologies to our connoisseur. He was right,
absolutely right. He made no mistake."
"Then she is here, after all?"
"No, she is far from here. But I had entirely forgotten, for the
moment, that she passed this way not so long ago. In the town below
there, she lingered a day or two on her way to France."
"Is she in France?"
"Yes, for the summer;--and for rest."
"What part of France?"
"Ah, that, Countess, I must not tell."
"But I am one of her oldest friends! Am I not even to correspond with
her?"
"Well, you know her one object in going there is for absolute rest, not
even writing letters. I see you are hurt, dear lady, and I understand
your feelings, but I am sworn to secrecy."
The lady stiffened, and settled back in the carriage. "Hurt! I should
say so. And why not, pray?"
Dr. Cervini seemed to reflect a moment. "Well, Countess, will you give
me your solemn word of honor to guard the secret if I tell you?"
"I promise."
"Do you happen to know the town of Tarbes?"
"No."
"Have you ever been to Foix?"
"Never heard of it."
"Well, she has rented a little villa somewhere between those places,
but back in the mountains."
"What mountains?"
"The Pyrenees."
"God protect us! Is she there?"
"She is. Her doctors and her family all insisted upon her having a six
months' rest. And she needs it."
"Provoking! Most annoying! And here I have had a long drive beneath a
broiling sun--and all for nothing."