“But what will he think?”
“Mon Dieu, let him think what he will! I also have had thinking this night. Let him think a little.”
He rose as he spoke, and she rose too. Already the anger in his eyes was fading fast before the sight of her so genuine emotion. They went out into the garden, and there she took up her explanation again.
“You thought I stayed here because of that man, didn’t you?”
“Donnerwetter!” he cried violently; “here he returns already again!”
It was indeed the American, approaching as fast as the crowd would let him. His face bore a curious expression. One might have gathered from it that he was much more clever, or much more stupid, than the vast majority gave him credit for being. The instant that he was near enough to speak, he began in out-of-breath accents:
“I’ve just met some people that I haven’t seen in years, and they want me to drive with them up by the University and see the town by moonlight, and I wondered if I could find you here in three-quarters of an hour—”
Rosina looked at him helplessly, divining that he supposed a degree of friendship between herself and Von Ibn which would cause his proposition to be most warmly welcome.
But Von Ibn spoke at once, coldly, but politely.
“Perhaps madame will permit me to escort her to her hotel this evening. If she will do so, I shall be most happy.”