s,
began blunderingly, could not right himself, and after scrambling
through a few bars, came to a dead stop, and let his hands fall from
the keys.
"Not to-day, Madeleine."
She laughed good-naturedly. "Very well--not to-day. One shouldn't ask
you to believe to-day that DIE GANZE WELT IST ZUM VERZWEIFELN TRAURIG."
While she made tea, he returned to the window, where he stood with his
hands in his pockets, lost in thought. He told himself once more what
he found it impossible to believe: that he was going to see Louise
again in a few hours; and not only to see her, but to speak to her, to
be at her side. And when his jubilation at this had subsided, he went
over in memory all that had just taken place. His first impression, he
could afford now to admit it, had been almost one of disappointment:
that came from having dreamed so long of a shadowy being, whom he had
called by her name, that the real she was a stranger to him. Everything
about her had been different from what he had expected--her voice, her
smile, her gestures--and in the first moments of their meeting, he had
been chill with fear, lest--lest ... even yet he did not venture to
think out the thought. But this first sensation of strangeness over, he
had found her more charming, more desirable, than even he had hoped;
and what almost wrung a cry of pleasure from him as he remembered it,
was that not the smallest trifle--no touch of coquetry, no insincerely
spoken word--had marred the perfect impression of the whole. To know
her, to stand before her, he recognised it now, gave the lie to false
slander and report. Hardest of all, however, was it to grasp that the
meeting had actually come to pass and was over: it had been so
ordinary, so everyday, the most natural thing in the world; there had
been no blast of trumpets, nor had any occult sympathy warned her that
she was in the presence of one who had trembled for weeks at the idea
of this moment and again he leaned forward and gazed at the spot in the
street, where she had disappeared from sight. He was filled with envy
of Dove--this was the latter's reward for his unfailing readiness to
oblige others--and in fancy he saw Dove walking street after street at
her side.
In reality, the two parted from each other shortly after turning the
first corner.
On any other day, Dove would have been still more prompt to take leave
of his companion; but, on this particular one, he was in the mood to be
a little rec
|