Felix Lanzberg's Expiation Part 16

"If you are not a grandfather before Litzi thinks of marriage," Elsa laughingly answers his last remark. "Do you know that you are beginning to grow gray?"

Whereupon be, turning to his right, says: "You will find the country very pleasant for riding, Baroness--many meadows," and to the left: "You always were accustomed to discover the mote in my eye, Snowdrop!"

"Why did you never mention your wish to me, Linda?" asks Erwin across the table. "I can place a horse at your disposal which might suit you."

"Riding is a very pleasant pastime--will be a great resource for you, Baroness," remarks Pistasch.

"Ah! Do you think that I will need many resources in Traunberg?" asks Linda, bitterly.

"Well, life in the country is always monotonous," he says politely but somewhat hesitatingly.

"These _patis_ are excellent, Mika," now says the ba.s.s voice of Klette, at his right. She has known him all his life, has dandled him on her knees when he wore short dresses, still calls him by his Christian name, and is one of the few people who remember that he was really baptised Michael.

He gives a servant a sign. "Shall I help you?" he asks with droll gallantry.

"I have nothing against it--two, please," she replies.

"How is Marienbad looking? Any new beauties?" he asks.

"Don't be so lazy, and come over and see for yourself," says she with her mouth very full.

"I was there Sat.u.r.day at the fair. Ruined myself buying cigar-cases. I place six at your disposal, Caroline. But on my word, it is astonishing what trash they had at the fair."

"You distinguished yourself," cries the hostess, laughingly.

"Yes, unfortunately I took a Ring Street beauty for the F---- from the Carl Theatre, and asked her how much a kiss cost. Her ladyship entered into the joke, and answered that she only sold cuffs, and as I persisted--_pour la bonne cause_, she replied in perfectly good French, '_La bonne cause s'en effaroucherait_,' then I grew urgent. 'Count Kamenz!' cried a warning voice near me. I look up, and behold beside me, the picture of offended dignity, the husband."

"And how did you get out of the sc.r.a.pe? What did you say?" asks Klette.

"I?--What could I say?--'Ah, pardon'--and decamped!"

"Cool! Very!" remarks Rhoeden, who has been reconciled to Pistasch again, laughing.

"I only wondered that he knew my name so well," says Pistasch, meditatively, with feigned simplicity. "I do not know to this day what his name is. His wife was a magnificent creature, on my word--what a pity!"

"I think she was sadder at the interruption than you," says Rhoeden.

"Possibly," replies Pistasch, calmly.

The trivial little story has seemed diverting enough to all present except Linda. Is that the way in which young people of society speak of pretty women out of their sphere, to whom they pay attentions? she asks herself.

XV.

Now the dinner is over. They have left the drawing-room to wander through the park. There are thunder-clouds in the sky, the air is close and breathless, sultry, but at times a sharp gust of wind rises. The birds fly close to the ground, as if the black sky frightened them, and the flowers smell strangely sweet.

In vain has Linda sent inviting glances at Scirocco; he clings to Elsa as a sinner might cling to a saint through whose protection he hoped to gain admission to Paradise.

Rhoeden who, whether from policy or convenience, plays the role of an injured man and is very reserved, polite and attentive as he is, has undertaken to be the young Elli's partner at lawn-tennis, by which game he can meet her in the park.

Erwin has good-naturedly joined his pretty sister-in-law; chatting gayly, he tries to drive away her bitter mood. There is something in the shape of his eyes which makes them look sentimental, one might almost say loving. His temperament is such that he can be with no one, especially no woman, without trying to make her existence agreeable.

Elsa who, walking with Scirocco, meets her husband, Linda on his arm, remembers neither the one thing nor the other; the smile with which, with head slightly lowered, he listens to her chat, the glance which he rests on her, are in Elsa's eyes half crimes. After a few superficial words the two couples separate again. Erwin as he goes turns round and calls to Scirocco, "See that you do not take my wife into a draught, Sempaly. She is strangely imprudent."

"What admirable thoughtfulness," says Elsa, half aloud, and draws down the corners of her mouth so deeply that Scirocco, as an old friend, permits himself to remark laughingly, "I did not know that you could look so gloomy, Snowdrop!" whereupon Elsa blushes.

Linda and Erwin join the lawn-tennis players. Linda has studied this modern pastime thoroughly in England, and likes to play; besides that, she knows very well that nothing is more becoming to her slender yet voluptuous figure than the quick litheness required in lawn-tennis.

Her voice reaches Elsa from a distance, gay, shrill, then the soft half-laughing voice of Erwin.

"You look so tired, Snowdrop," says Sempaly, sympathetically, "will you not rest a little?" With that he points to a bench in a niche of thick elder-bushes.

"Yes, I am tired," says Elsa, dully, and sits down.

"Tired after a two-hour drive and a little stroll through the park, Snowdrop," remarks Scirocco, anxiously. "I do not recognize you any more. You used to endure so much. Do you know that your health makes me anxious?"

"Nonsense! My health interests you about as much as that of the Emperor of Brazil. If you receive notice of my death some day you will shrug your shoulders and sigh sympathetically, 'Poor Garzin!'"

"You are intolerable, Snowdrop," says Scirocco, laughing. "Besides, the wind is rising and you are beginning to shiver. Let us go to the house."

"No, I like it here," she cries with a pretty childishness. "I should like to see the sun set from here, and am curious as to whether the Flora there"--pointing to a statue--"will become flushed pink. Prove your friendship and get me a wrap."

He goes away, but remains longer than the nearness of the castle seems to justify. Elsa does not notice his long absence. She prefers to be alone in this spot. The bench reminds her of old times, and is therefore dear to her. Whether the Flora becomes pink or not is perfectly indifferent to her--she does not look outward, she gazes inward. She thinks of the day when she sat there with Erwin, her betrothed. (Count Dey was still alive then.) She remembers--oh, something foolish--the little beetle which had fallen in her hair and which Erwin had brushed away with light hand; his caressing touch; how he looked lovingly at the beetle because it had touched his love's hair; how, instead of throwing the insect away, he had carried it with him when they left the bench, and had placed it carefully in the heart of the most beautiful rose which they pa.s.sed.

How he loved her then! How pa.s.sionately and at the same time how tenderly! "Ah! those were such lovely times," she sighs with the old song.

The voices of the lawn-tennis players are still heard. How can they play in such a gale? Suddenly she hears her name spoken near by.

"How this poor Mrs. Garzin has gone off!" cries the Klette's ba.s.s voice. "I scarcely recognized her."

"She looks badly," replies Count Pistasch's distinguished husky voice.

"She has grown old, fearfully old; she looks as if she were forty,"

a.s.serts the Klette.

"Ah, bah! She looks rather like a consumptive pensioner," replies Pistasch. "What can be the matter with her? I hope no trouble is worrying her."

"Don't you think that this good Garzin is a little too fond of his pretty sister-in-law?"

"Nonsense, Caroline!" says Pistasch, reprovingly. "You are always imagining something. Recently you asked me whether poor Rudi----"

"Well, that is evidently over;" the Klette heaves a sigh of disappointment; "but she must coquet, poor Mrs. Lanzberg, to amuse herself, there is not much else for her to do; and say yourself--I do not a.s.sert that the good Garzin has already knelt to her, but would it not be natural? It would really serve this arrogant Elsa right. To force Garzin, a man of such a gay, sociable nature, to absolute solitude; to take away from him his career, his occupation, in short, everything."

Elsa springs up; she listens breathlessly. What does she care that it is ill-bred to listen? But the voices die away. Pistasch and the Klette turn into another path without noticing the white form in the dark elder niche.

Scirocco at length comes back.