They were all talking of the habitues of the Casino: "The only one I do
not like," she exclaimed, in French, "is that Count--if indeed Count he
be? He is so arrogant, so proud, so rude! We have known him for years,
have L'Ami Fritz and I, for we are always running across him at Monte
Carlo and other places. But no, each time we meet he looks at us as if he
was a fish. He does not even nod!"
"When the Comte de Virieu is actually playing, he does not know that
other people exist," said Anna Wolsky, slowly.
She had looked across at Sylvia and noticed her English friend's blush
and look of embarrassment. "I used to watch him two years ago at Monte
Carlo, and I have never seen a man more absorbed in his play."
"That is no excuse!" cried Madame Wachner, scornfully. "Besides, that is
only half the truth. He is ashamed of the way he is spending his life,
and he hates the people who see him doing it! It is shameful to be so
idle. A strong young man doing nothing, living on charity, so they say!
And he despises all those who do what he himself is not ashamed to do.
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