She followed him to the restaurant, touched by his rough kindness. He himself took nothing, but he paid for her brandy.
That evening after table-d'hôte, or rather after he had finished his dinner, he rose to go to his room as usual. He generally went off without a remark. But to-night he said:
"Good-night, and thank you for your companionship. It has been my birthday to-day, and I've quite enjoyed it."
CHAPTER XI.
"IF ONE HAS MADE THE ONE GREAT SACRIFICE."
THERE was a suicide in the Kurhaus one afternoon. A Dutchman, Vandervelt, had received rather a bad account of himself from the doctor a few days previously, and in a fit of depression, so it was thought, he had put a bullet through his head. It had occurred through Marie's unconscious agency. She found him lying on his sofa when she went as usual to take him his afternoon glass of milk. He asked her to give him a packet which was on the top shelf of his cupboard.
"Willingly," she said, and she jumped nimbly on the chair, and gave him the case.
"Anything more?" she asked kindly, as she watched him draw himself up from the sofa. She thought at the time that he looked wild and strange; but then, as she pathetically said afterwards, who did not look wild and strange in the Kurhaus?
"Yes," he said. "Here are five francs for you."
She thought that rather unusual too; but five francs, especially coming unexpectedly like that, were not to be despised, and Marie determined to send them off to that Mutterli at home in the nut-brown châlet at Grüsch.