you now
intend!"
"Why should there be any doubt?" he asked.
"One always hopes there would be a doubt," she said, half in a whisper.
Then he looked up, and saw all the pain on the little face.
CHAPTER XII.
THE DISAGREEABLE MAN MAKES A LOAN.
THE Dutchman was buried in the little cemetery which faced the hospital.
Marie's tin wreath was placed on the grave. And there the matter ended.
The Kurhaus guests recovered from their depression: the German Baroness
returned to her buoyant vulgarity, the little danseuse to her busy
flirtations. The French Marchioness, celebrated in Parisian circles for
her domestic virtues, from which she was now taking a holiday, and a
very considerable holiday too, gathered her nerves together again and
took renewed pleasure in the society of the Russian gentleman. The
French Marchioness had already been requested to leave three other
hotels in Petershof; but it was not at all probable that the proprietors
of the Kurhaus would have presumed to measure Madame's morality or
immorality. The Kurhaus committee had a benign indulgence for humanity--
provided of course that humanity had a purse--an indulgence which some
of the English hotels would not have done badly to imitate. There was a
story afloat concerning the English quarter, that a tired little English
lady, of no importance to look at, probably not rich, and probably not
handsome, came to the most respectable hotel in Petershof, thinking to
find there the peace and quiet which her weariness required.
But no one knew who the little lady was, whence she had come, and why.
She kept entirely to herself, and was thankful for the luxury of
loneliness after some overwhelming sorrow.
One day she was requested to go. The proprietor of the hotel was
distressed, but he could not do otherwise than comply with the demands
of his guests.
"It is not known who you are, Mademoiselle," he said. "And you are not
approved of. You English are curious people. But what can I do? You
have a cheap room, and are a stranger to me. The others have expensive
apartments, and come year after year. You see my position, Mademoiselle?
I am sorry."
So the little tired lady had to go. That was how the story went. It was
not known what became of her, but it was known that the English people
in the Kurhaus tried to persuade her to come to them. But she had lost
heart, and left in distress.
This could not have happened in the Kurhaus, where all were rece
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