He asked me a few other questions, and soon afterwards a tall handsome woman entered. She was my mistress, and took me into the nursery. It was early, and the children were not yet dressed; but they looked so sweet in their nightgowns that I liked them at once.
My life again became the same as it had been at my other situation. I occupied myself entirely with the children, played with them, took them out for walks, and later on to school. Our usual walk was along the wide and stately Danube, which represented a magnificent picture with the King's palace and other grand buildings upon its banks. If the weather was not fine, I used to send the children out on the balcony that ran all round the square courtyard at the same height as our apartments. On account of its smoothness it was a wonderful place for mechanical toys, such as engines, motor-cars, and so on.
One afternoon I had sent the children out there again, and promised to join them soon. When, however, I followed, the children had disappeared. I called their names aloud, whereupon they responded at once, but still I did not know where they were.
"Where are you?"
"Here," they repeated, and while I still stood and listened, a door that had not so far interested me opened, and my little girl put out her sweet dark head.
"Here we are!" she said once more; "do come in."
I did not know the people who lived there, but thinking that they were friends of the family I went in.
The room into which the little one had taken me was occupied by a gentleman about thirty years old, who was amusing the children with stamps and pictures. I thought he was alone at home. He saluted me in fluent German, and with more politeness than anyone had ever shown to me.
I controlled my embarrassment, and took the seat he offered me. The children had entered into an argument as to the possible value of foreign stamps, and the owner of the room turned to me in conversation. At first he only spoke commonplaces with a faint touch of irony in his voice, but he grew grave and interested after I had made a few remarks. Then we began a discussion, but how we started upon it I could never remember. Smoking a cigar and leaning back in his chair with easy elegance, he asked:
"Intoxication or regret—which is the greater of the two?... Is it worth the while?..."