“I never dreamed of his feeling that way. How could I? I only thought he was delightful. And always, even the first day at Madame de S——’s, when he said adieu he would kiss my hands in the most adorable Louis XIV. kind of a way.”
“And all the while it was in his heart a plot to marry you. You see!”
“Men are so queer,” she reflected; “I cannot see why that old gentleman should have wanted to marry me.”
“I can,” said Von Ibn, dryly; “I can see quite well.”
The marquis as a topic of conversation seemed at an end. They were in the Hellerstrasse, going towards the river, and the heaviness which the Isar always cast over her fell down about her spirits.
“Oh, I cannot believe that in forty-eight hours I shall be gone!” she exclaimed suddenly.
“Do not go,” he said, tightening his hold upon her arm again; “stay with me.”
“I must go,” she declared. “I couldn’t stay with you, anyway,” she added, in a tone of unintended mournfulness.
His mood altered, and the light of a street lamp showed that every tinge of gayety had fled his face.
“You have no will of your own,” he said with acerbity; “that Jack has it all. I find you so very weak.”