The Margrave talked incessantly throughout the journey, telling interminably dull stories of his long association with Meldenstein, of his respect and admiration for Great Britain and of his plans to reconstruct and improve his country in the future.
His voice droned on and on until Camilla saw that the Baroness sitting opposite her was growing sleepy and that the aide-de-camp, who doubtless had heard everything that was said a dozen times before, had long ceased to pay attention.
She too ceased to listen, reliving over and over again those enchanted moments in the garden, when Hugo Cheverly had told her of his love and she had known how deeply she loved him in return.
She wished now that he had forgone his scruples and taken her in his arms.
She longed above all things to feel the tou
