XXIII
When on the day after his nocturnal wandering Christian came to see Eva, he was astonished to find her surrounded by a crowd of Russians, Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Belgians. Until this day she had withdrawn herself from society entirely, or else had received only at hours previously agreed upon between Christian and herself. This unexpected change suddenly made a mere guest of him, and pushed him from the centre to the circumference of the circle.
The conversation turned on the arrival of Count Maidanoff, and there was a general exchange of speculation, both in regard to the duration and the purpose of his visit. A political setting of the stage had been feigned with conscious hypocrisy. There was to be a visit to the king, and ministerial conferences. He had first stopped at the Hotel Lettoral in Knocke, but had soon moved to the large and magnificent Villa Herzynia, which his favourite and friend, Prince Szilaghin, had rented.
Szilaghin appeared soon after Christian. Wiguniewski, obviously under orders, introduced the two men.
“I’m going to have a few friends with me to-morrow night,” Szilaghin said, with the peculiar courtesy of a great comedian. “I trust you will do me the honour of joining us.” Coldly he examined Christian, whose nerves grew painfully taut under that glance. He bowed and determined not to go.
Eva was in the room that gave on the balcony, and was posing for the sculptress, Beatrix Vanleer. The latter sat with a block of paper and made sketches. Meantime Eva chatted with several gentlemen. She held out her hand for Christian to kiss, and ignored his questioning gaze.
In her cinnamon dress, with her hair high on her head and a diadem of ivory, she seemed extraordinarily strange to him. Her face had the appearance of delicate enamel. About her chin there was a hostile air. Gentle vibrations about the muscles at her temples seemed to portend an inner storm. But these perceptions were fleeting. What Christian felt about her was primarily a paralyzing coldness.
When Mlle. Vanleer had finished for the day, Eva walked up and down talking to a certain young Princess Helfersdorff. She led her to the balcony, which was bathed in the sunlight, and then into her boudoir, where she liked to be when she read or rested from her exercises. Christian followed the two women, and felt, for the first time in his life, that he was being humiliated. But it did not depress him as profoundly as, an hour ago, the mere thought of such an experience would have done.
The Marquis Tavera joined him. Standing on the threshold of the boudoir, they talked of indifferent things. Christian heard Eva tell the young princess that she expected to go to Hamburg within a week. The North German Lloyd was planning a great festivity on the occasion of the launching of a magnificent ship, and she had been asked to dance. “I’m really delighted at the prospect,” she added cheerfully. “I’m little more than a name to most Germans yet. Now they’ll be able to see me and tell me what I amount to and where I belong.”
The young lady looked at the dancer with enthusiasm. Christian thought: “I must speak to her at once.” In every word of Eva’s he felt an arrow of hostility or scorn aimed at him. He left Tavera, and entered the room. The decisiveness of his movement forced Eva to look at him. She smiled in surprise. A scarcely perceptible shrug marked her astonishment and censure.
Tavera had turned to the princess, and when these two moved toward the door, Eva seemed inclined to follow them. A gesture of Christian, which she saw on glancing back, determined her to wait. Christian closed the door, and Eva’s expression of amazement became intense. But he felt that this was but acting. He slipped into a sudden embarrassment, and could find no words.
Eva walked up and down, touching some object here and there. “Well?” she asked, and looked at him coldly.
“This Szilaghin is an insufferable creature,” Christian murmured, with lowered eyes. “I remember I once saw a mani-coloured marine animal in an aquarium. It was very beautiful and also extremely horrible. I couldn’t get rid of its image. I wanted constantly to go back to it, and yet felt constantly an ugly horror of it.”
“O la, la!” said Eva. Nothing else. And in this soft exclamation there was contempt, impatience, and curiosity. Then she stood before him. “I am not fond of being caged,” she said in a hard voice. “I am not fond of being caught and isolated from my guests to be told trivial things. You must forgive me, but it doesn’t interest me what impression Prince Szilaghin makes on you. Or, to be quite truthful, it interests me no longer.”
Christian looked at her dumbly. It seemed to him that he was being chastised, beaten, and he turned very pale. The feeling of humiliation grew like a fever. “He invited me to his house to-morrow,” he stammered, “and I merely wanted to tell you that I’m not going.”
“You must go,” Eva replied swiftly. “I beg of you to go.” Avoiding the astonished question in his eyes, she added: “Maidanoff will be there. I wish you to see him.”
“For what reason?”
“You are to know what I grasp at, what I do, whither I go. Can you read faces? I dare say not. Nevertheless, come!”
“What have you determined on?” he asked, awkwardly and shyly.
She gave her body a little, impatient shake. “Nothing that was not settled long ago,” she answered, with a glassy coolness in her voice. “Did you think that I would drag on our lovely, wild May into a melancholy November? You might have spared us both your frankness of last night. The dream was over no moment sooner for you than for me. You should have known that. And if you did not know it, you should have feigned that knowledge. A gentleman of faultless taste does not throw down his cards while his partner is preparing to make a last bet. You do not deserve the honourable farewell that I gave you. I should have led you about, chained, like those stupid little beasts who are always whining for permission to ruin themselves for my sake. They call this thing their passion. It is a fire like any other; but I would not use it to kindle a lamp, if I needed light to unlace my shoes.”
She had crossed her arms and laughed softly, and moved toward the door.
“You have misunderstood me,” said Christian overwhelmed. “You misunderstand me wholly.” He raised his hands and barred her way. “Do you not understand? If I had words.... But I love you so! I cannot imagine life without you. And yet (how shall I put it into words?) I feel like a man who owes colossal sums and is constantly dunned and tormented, and does not know wherewith to pay nor whom. Do try to understand! I was hasty, foolish. But I thought that you might help me.”
It was the cry of a soul in need. But Eva did not or would not heed it. She had built of her love a soaring arch. She thought it had fallen, and no abyss seemed deep enough for its ruins to be hurled. She had neither ears now nor eyes. She had decided her fate even now; and though it frightened her, to recede was contrary to her pride and her very blood. A sovereign gesture silenced Christian. “Enough!” she said. “Of all the ugly things between two people, nothing is uglier than an explanation that involves the emotions. I have no understanding for hypochondria, and epilogues bore me. As for your creditors, see that you seek them out and pay them. It is troublesome to keep house with unpaid bills.”
She went from the room.
Christian stood very still. Slowly he lowered his head, and hid his face in his hands.