ils trembled,
her eyes laughed.

A feeling of deep dejection came over her later on when she was sitting
at the table with Mr. Schmielke, with Zientek on the other side, and
her husband opposite to her. She did not want to eat anything; when she
saw how Mr. Tiralla was devouring his food she lost her appetite. All
at once she felt she had had enough of it all; the dance nauseated her
as well as the food. For to-morrow she would again be alone with her
husband at Starydwor. The more court the men paid her that evening the
more she abhorred him. There was nobody here who could have charmed
her. This Mr. Schmielke at her side, bah! True, all the girls ran after
him, and he was constantly whispering some amorous nonsense in her ear
and secretly pressing his knee against her dress, and seeking her foot.
But she could have lived a hundred years on a desert island with him,
and he would never have been dangerous to [Pg 97] her. And Zientek,
that little fair-haired fellow, what did she care for such a stupid
boy? Her lip curled with a disdainful smile. What did she care for all
the others, those husbands who cooed round her like pigeons? On the
whole, what did she care for all the men in the world? She felt herself
infinitely superior to them all; her hand remained cool in spite of the
most ardent pressure; no hot blood ever flew to her head. And still she
would rather have given herself to any one of them than to her husband.
It angered her that he should show so little jealousy. Was he so sure
of her? What would he say if she chose somebody else?

Her eyes began to rove about--big, restless eyes, that wandered all
over the table.

Mr. Schmielke intercepted such a glance, and took it as an
encouragement. What, was he to conquer this little woman after all? He
boldly pushed his chair still nearer to hers, for he knew that audacity
had more effect upon women than anything else. He had drunk a
considerable amount during the course of the evening, and he went on
drinking during supper: a glass of Tokay with the salad, beer with the
roast pork and duck, and now he ordered a bottle of Moselle with the
vanilla ice.

Others followed his example. Count Jagodziuski would not be satisfied
with anything less than champagne, for Mr. Tiralla's silver was burning
a hole in his pocket.

They all grew very animated. The gentlemen in their black clothes
showed they had fists, and now and then one of them banged on the
table.

The tight