CHAPTER XXXIV.
[ROHRITZ DREAMS.]
"She has given him the sack."
"So it seems."
"A pretty affair! How pleased Thérèse will be!"
The speakers are Capito and Edgar as they leave the Rue de la Bruyère, where the small hotel which the Lipinskis have rented is situated, and walk along under the blue-black heavens glittering with millions of stars, to the more animated part of Paris.
"Yes, Thérèse will be pleased," Edgar murmurs, repeating Zino's words.
"It serves her right," Zino says, laughing. "I must confess, Stella ought not to have let matters go so far; but I cannot help liking it in her that she refused the fellow. Natalie and I were looking at her; it was immensely funny,--and yet so sad. Ah, that poor, distressed, pale face! After it was all over, Natascha--she has lately grown very intimate with Stella--called the girl into a little private boudoir, where the poor child began to sob bitterly. Natascha kissed her and comforted her, I brought her a cup of tea, and we gradually soothed her."
"Disgusting creature, that Cabouat!" growls Rohritz.
"In my opinion he is an awkward, common snob," says Zino, "and if I am not mistaken he will shortly prove himself to be so in the eyes of every one. The affair cannot fail to be unpleasant, since he has been boasting everywhere that he intended to marry a most beautiful Austrian, a friend of Madame de Rohritz, a charming young girl, very highly connected, and with no dowry."
"He is at perfect liberty to say that at the last moment he changed his mind," Rohritz remarks, casually.
"I rather think he'll not content himself with that. Ça, you are coming with me to the masked ball at the opera?"
"Not exactly. I am going to bed."
"Indolent, degenerate race!" Zino jeers. "What is to become of Paris, if this indifference to all gaiety gets the upper hand? I dreamed last night of a white domino: I am going to look for it." So saying, he leaves Edgar, and has walked on a few steps, when he hears himself recalled.
"Capito! Capito!"
"What is it?"
"Pray get me an invitation to the Fanes' ball; it is short notice, but----"
"All right: that's of no consequence at an American's ball," Zino replies, and hurries on to his goal. The two men turn their steps in opposite directions. Capito hastens back into the heart of Paris, where the garish light from gas-jets and lamps illuminates a night life as busy as that of the day, and Rohritz passes along the Boulevard Malesherbes, towards the Rue Villiers. Around him all is quiet; the few shops are closed; an occasional pedestrian passes, his coat-collar drawn up over his ears, and humming some café-chantant air, or a carriage with coach-lamps sparkles along the middle of the street like a huge firefly. The street-cars are no longer running: the street is but dimly lighted. The Dumas monument looms, clumsy and awkward, on its huge pedestal in the little square on the Place Malesherbes.
A thousand delightful thoughts course through Rohritz's brain. What a pleasant hour he has had talking with Stella at the Lipinskis'! At first she was stiff towards him, but gradually, slowly, she thawed into the loveliest, most child-like confidence. He will wait no longer. At the Fanes' ball, the next evening but one, he will confess all to her. What will she reply? Blind as are all mortals to the future, he looks back, and seeks her answer in the past. Slowly, slowly, he passes in review all the lovely summer days which he has spent with her, to that evening when he carried her in his arms through the drenching rain across the slippery, muddy road. Again he sees the windows of the little inn gleam yellow through the gloom; he hears Stella's soft word of thanks as he puts her down on the threshold. The picture changes. He sees a large, watery moon gleaming through prismatic clouds, sees a little skiff by the shore of a dark, swollen stream, and in the skiff, at his--Edgar's--feet, kneels a slender girl in a light dress, trembling with distress, her eyes imploringly raised to his, her delicate hands clasping his arm.
He bends over her. "Stella, my poor, dear, unreasonable child!" He has lifted her, clasps her in his arms, presses his lips upon her golden hair, her eyes, her mouth---- With a sudden start he rouses from his dream to find that he has run against a passer-by, who is saying, crossly, "Mais comment donc? Is not the pavement wide enough for two?" And, looking up, Edgar perceives that he has already passed ten numbers beyond his brother's hotel.