XIV
It was about this time that de Sterny began to be restlessly ambitious. His playing changed. He began to take on affectations. He began to pound. This enraptured the masses; the critics pronounced it "a magnificent development," and he himself was disgusted.
An icy crust covered the gutter in the Rue Ravestein, long icicles hung from the arms of the great crucifix, and on the windows of the little green salon the frost painted his chilly flowers; but Annette's hands were always hot now, and her lips burning red. Her walk had grown slow and careless, her movements dreamy and gliding. Her eyes gazed into the distance. Instead of teasing wilfulness, or childlike winningness, she met her lover with apathetic compliance, sometimes with repellent irritation. Then would come hours when she hung upon him passionately, begged him with tears not to be angry with her, and seemed as though she could not show him love and tenderness enough.
He did not ponder very deeply over her strange contradictory nature, but simply forgave her, as a sick child.
One evening, when he and his foster-father were involved in one of their endless talks about music and literature, Annette, who had sat meanwhile, reserved and silent, leaning back in a corner of the stiff horse-hair sofa, suddenly raised her head and listened. Some one knocked at the door: neither Gesa nor Delileo paid any attention.
"Entrez," cried Annette, breathlessly. The door opened. "Do I disturb you?"--said an amiable voice, and Alphonso de Sterny entered.
Several days later, Gesa, returning from his lessons to the Rue Ravestein, remarked, "Strange, Annette, it smells of amber,--has de Sterny been here?"
"He brought us tickets for his next concert," she replied without looking at her lover.
* * * * *
"Dear Friend:--I have something to say to you--come to me to-morrow, if possible.
"Sterny."
Gesa found this note one evening in his apartment. Next morning, when he dutifully presented himself at the Hotel de Flandres, de Sterny received him with the question--"Would you like to earn a great deal of money?"
"How can you doubt it! You know how pressingly I need money. Can it be an opportunity offers for disposing of my 'Inferno,'" cried Gesa.
"Not yet--but something else offers. I received a telegram yesterday. Winansky has broken an arm--Marinski, in consequence, needs a violinist of the first rank and offers ten thousand francs a month and expenses. Would that suit you?" Gesa's head sank. "How long must I remain away?" he murmured.
"Six--eight months. You must decide by tomorrow. Are you afraid of seasickness?" laughed the virtuoso.
"That?--No! but--Well I will ask the little one. Six or eight months--it is long--and so far. She will not have the courage. However, I thank you heartily!"
The servant announced an illustrious amateur and Gesa left.
To his great astonishment Annette exulted and rejoiced when he told her of Marinksi's offer. "I did not know that you were already such a great man in the world," she cried, triumphantly.
"Shall I accept?" asked Gesa, with a trembling voice, tears standing in his eyes. She looked at him amazed. "Would you refuse? Gesa, only think when you come back from America, a rich man!"
He sighed once deeply, then he bent over her, kissed her forehead, and quietly said, "You are right, Annette. I was cowardly!"
He accepted Marinski's offer.
A few days later, a little dinner was served in the Rue Ravestein, which was very elaborate for the surroundings, and at which Gesa left all his favorite dishes untouched, and old Delileo exerted himself to talk very rapidly about the most indifferent things, shook pepper into his marmalade, and finally raised his glass with a trembling hand and gave a toast to Gesa's speedy, happy return. Annette, who up to this time had regarded Gesa's departure with the most frivolous gaiety, became every moment more painfully excited. She ate nothing, said not a word, and looked wretched, pain and terror were in her eyes. When Gesa drew her to him, and kindly stroked her pallid cheeks, she broke into immoderate weeping, clung to him convulsively, and begged him again and again "do not leave me alone--do not leave me alone!"
He made no answer to her unreasonable words, only pitied her most tenderly, called her a thousand sweet names, and said, turning to Delileo, "Try to divert her a little, father--take her sometimes to the theatre, and as soon as pleasant weather comes, take her to the country. And read with her a little,--none of the complicated old trash that we delight in, but something simple, entertaining, to suit a spoiled little girl."
"Is there any one in the world, better than he is, papa?" sobbed Annette. The servant entered and announced that the carriage was waiting at the Place Royale, and the porter was there to take Monsieur Gesa's luggage, at the same time clutching his traveling bag and violin case. Gesa looked at the clock. "It is time," said he, quietly, "be reasonable, Annette!"
But she sobbed incessantly, "do not leave me alone," and he was forced to unclasp her dear, soft arms from his neck. He pressed his foster-father's hand in silence, and hastened away. From the street, he heard the sound of a window opening above, and Annette's voice. He stood still, looked back--cried "Auf Wiedersehen!"--and hurried on to the Place Royale.
Before the train puffed off, a slender, blonde man rushed onto the platform. "De Sterny!" cried Gesa, deeply moved.
"Well, well, you expected me I hope. I slipped away from the X's in order to catch you. You understand that I did not want to let you go without wishing you 'bonne chance' for the last time."
The conductor opened the door of the coupé--Gesa entered it.
"Bonne chance! it can't fail you"--cried de Sterny.
Gesa bent out of the coach window. "Thousand thanks for all your kindness," he cried, "and if it is not too tiresome for you,--then to-morrow look in a moment, to see how it is with her."
"I will take her your last greeting," said de Sterny.
The virtuoso beckoned smilingly, while the train steamed away.
Thus, smiling, kind, sympathetic, Gesa lost sight of his friend. Thus he remained in Gesa's memory.