She looked across at him with a smile, showing two rows of fine white teeth. Then, rising, she went over to the sideboard to show him that she too knew how to carve a joint. Old Nick took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely.
Dark, glistening hair, tied in what is called a Gordian knot at the back, with a tiny curl or so lower down, and a beautiful white neck. She was not tall, but her figure was well rounded, and the close-fitting dark dress showed it off to perfection.
Old Nick was so intent in studying her that he had not time to look away before she turned round and laughingly exclaimed:
"Well, are you afraid I shall spoil the joint?"
"No, indeed; I see you are an expert at carving."
In his confusion he upset the sauce tureen. But Mrs. Rantzau laughed heartily, holding his arm as she declared she must evidently have brought misfortune in her train.
Old Nick had been rather uneasy at the thought of what to say to her, but she made conversation so easily herself that he had only to put in an odd remark here and there: "Yes, of course, yes." "No, indeed." "Exactly."
In the evening Thor Smith, Nachmann and Warden Prois came round for their weekly game of cards. They were all remarkably punctual to-day: the clock had not struck seven before all three were in the hall, and all with unfeigned curiosity plainly on their faces.
"I'm dying to see how the old man gets on with this gay widow," said Thor Smith, touching up his hair and tie before the glass—a nicety he had never troubled about on previous visits to Old Nick.
Red paper shades had been put on the lamps, and the table was fully laid with tea-urn, cups and saucers, cakes and little fringed serviettes.