Edith turned her head to the young German, and exchanged with him a pitying glance.
"And you?" she asked him.
"I have been here eight months. I am quite well. I am going home in May."
The Russian opened her dark eyes again, but did not speak.
"Are you going to the dance to-night?" said the young man after a while.
"A dance? Where?" asked Edith.
"Here, in the hotel—in the big ball-room. We have a dance here every Wednesday, and the Grand Hotel has one every Saturday. Great fun." And he cleared his throat and hummed "La Valse Bleue."
Edith went into the ball-room that evening, and although she did not dance, she enjoyed herself very much. Mrs. Avory repeatedly asked her if she was tired. "No, mother—no." There was a wild feverish excitement all round her that she felt and shared without understanding it—the excitement of the danse macabre.
Fritz Klasen came to where she sat, and, striking his heels together, introduced himself to her and to her mother.
"I had no idea Davos was so gay," said Mrs. Avory, raising her light gentle eyes to the young man's face.