own and quivers into the wood! No wonder your eyes burn!
you do not know whence it has come? But the steel-blade quivers; is it a
warning?"
He laughed aloud, but there were still omnibuses and cabs in the street;
so he was not heard. Indeed, the people who were on the pavement were
hurrying past to get out of the rain, and took no notice of the old
albino in the voluminous cloak.
"Natalushka," said he, quite as if he were addressing some one before
him, "do you know that I am trudging through the mud of this infernal
city all for you? And you, little sybarite, are among the fine ladies of
the reading-room at the hotel, and listening to music, and the air all
scented around you. Never mind; if only I had a little bird that could
fly to you with a message--ah, would you not have pleasant dreams
to-night? Did I not tell you to rely on Calabressa? He chatters to you;
he tries to amuse you; but he is not always Policinella. No, not always
Policinella: sometimes he is silent and cunning; sometimes--what do you
think?--he is a conjurer. Oh yes, you are not seen, you are not heard;
but when you have them round the board, whirr! comes the gleaming blade
and quivers in the wood! You look round; the guilty one shakes with the
palsy; his wits go; his startled tongue confesses. Then you laugh; you
say, 'That is well done;' you say, 'Were they wrong in giving this
affair to Calabressa?'"
Now, whether it was that his rapid walking helped to relieve him of this
over-excitement, or whether it was that the soaking rain began to make
him uncomfortable, he was much more staid in demeanor when he got up to
the little lane in Oxford Street where the Culturverein held its
meetings. Of course, he did not knock and demand admission. He stopped
some way down the street, on the other side, where he found shelter from
the rain in a door-way, and whence he could readily observe any one
coming out from the hall of the Verein. Then he succeeded in lighting a
cigarette.
It was a miserable business, this waiting in the cold, damp night air;
but sometimes he kept thinking of how he would approach Reitzei in the
expected interview; and sometimes he thought of Natalie; and again, with
his chilled and dripping fingers he would manage to light a cigarette.
Again and again the door of the hall was opened, and this or the other
figure came out from the glare of the gas into the dark street; but so
far no Reitzei. It was now nearly one in the morning.
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