The presence of that common, showily dressed woman made him feel uncomfortable. He could not chase from his mind the vision of that garret, up a squalid stair, with its bare floor, rickety bed, and drawers full of dirty, tawdry knick-knacks. He tried to think of her only as the one being who could, if she would, if he set the right way to work, save him from his perilous position.
She had evidently hidden the candlesticks in some secure spot, away from the eyes of the police, or, maybe, had already sold them to an accomplice. To find this out was his self-imposed task, and the few moments that elapsed before the waiter returned with the supper, Iván spent in steeling himself to the ordeal.
For a trying ordeal it would surely be to a young and refined man, unaccustomed to the coarser pleasures of a gay city. Iván in turning round caught the woman’s eyes fixed with an amused, half-pitying expression upon him. Clearly she thought him a young, shy fool, anxious to taste the cup of dissipation, but with a lingering awkwardness when brought face to face with it. The part suited Iván; he determined to play it, and hide his nervous irritability under the cloak of intense shyness. He did not even know what type of conversation was expected of him, but he trusted that the champagne, which he had ordered dry and plentiful, would loosen his own tongue as well as hers.
Grete had employed the last few moments in divesting herself of her cloak and hat, and she now appeared in a gaudy evening dress, displaying charms that, like the Emperor’s candlesticks, had the value of antiquity.
“Leave everything on the sideboard,” she said to the waiter, “we will wait on ourselves, and you need not come till we ring for you.”
The waiter, well trained, arranged the supper-table as directed, then, taking a last look round to see that everything was in order, he discreetly withdrew.
“I hope you will like what I have ordered,” said Iván awkwardly; “if not, please ask for anything you want, anything that will make you lively, you know,” he added with a forced laugh; “we must enjoy ourselves, Grete, mustn’t we?”
The ice was broken, Grete burst into a merry peal of laughter.
“Well, you are the funniest creature I have ever come across,” she said, shaking with merriment. “Are you afraid of me? You have not opened your mouth since you brought me here. No, not there,” she said, as Iván solemnly sat down opposite her at the table; “I call that most unsociable, and I give you my word I won’t eat you up. Ach! Herr Je!” she added with a sigh, “the things on the table are much more appetising than you, and you are not the first young gentleman I have supped with. Come and sit here, little booby,” and she placed a chair close to her own.
Iván, glad that she started a conversation—which she was evidently well able to conduct by herself—changed his seat as she wished, and poured himself and her a full glass of champagne.