During those few moments that we were alone together on the terrace, we arranged that I should start with Tioka and Elise that very evening, during the dinner hour, leaving all our trunks behind us for my betrothed to see to after we had left. He could join us three days later in Vienna, and then we should all proceed to Orel, where important affairs claimed his presence.
Half-way through dinner, as had been arranged (and as usual Prilukoff sat at a table next to ours), Elise entered the dining-room timidly and came to our table.
“I beg your ladyship's pardon. Master Tioka is outside and wishes to say good-night.”
“Bring Master Tioka in,” I said, trying to speak naturally and raising my voice a little so that Prilukoff should hear.
“I am sorry, my lady, but he refuses to come,” and Elise hung her head as she spoke these words; the treason we were perpetrating on Lohengrin grieved her even more than the tortures that Lohengrin had inflicted upon me.
“Pray excuse me a moment,” I said to Count Kamarowsky, and rose from the table. “I shall be back at once.”
No sooner was I outside the dining-room than Elise threw my traveling cloak round me. A motor-car was throbbing at the door, and in it with beaming face sat Tioka surrounded by our hand-bags and dressing-cases, shawls and hats.
“What are we doing?” he cried gleefully. “Are we running away?”
“Yes, darling,” and I clasped him to my heart, as I sank into the seat beside him. The motor was already gliding through the twilight roads towards Cannes.
“But why? Why are we running away? Have we stolen something?”