“Then we will not talk about it,” assented Helmer.
“But please fill the glasses,” Franka held out her champagne-cup. “If we are not going to talk about your lecture, let us drink to the hope that what you suggested to our fellow-men may be fulfilled.”
They touched glasses.
“May also what your teaching promises be fulfilled, Franka Garlett,” said Helmer; “will you not join us, Frau von Rockhaus ... may I fill your glass?”
Frau Eleonore shook her head: “Thank you, I only drink tea ... and to tell you frankly, these toasts are too vague. Let our contemporaries and those who come after us look after their own good. Won’t you folks also think a little about yourselves? I am ready to drain my cup of tea to the nail-test if the toast shall be: ‘Three cheers to Franka,’ or ‘Three cheers to Helmer,’ or even a cheer or two to Eleonore.... And please understand, the fate of the last-named lady affects me more than that of unborn generations!”
“Good!” cried Franka; “agreed. Health to the three of us!—a ninefold cheer!”
The glasses clinked. Then Franka leaned her head back on the cushion of the easy-chair and, smiling, closed her eyes. “At this moment I do have an attack of selfishness.... I feel all thrilled with a longing for ... for....”
“Happiness?” suggested Helmer.
“That expresses too much. Only a deep, heart-filling joy. But not a lonely joy ... I want your company, dear friends.” So saying, she stretched out her hands to left and right, and laid them on the arms of her two table companions.
Helmer felt this touch like an electric shock. What filled his heart was not an unquestioning, unwishing joy; rather it was a dream-happiness which flashed through him like lightning. But what this flash of lightning revealed was a burning sand waste of hopeless yearning. More clearly than the impulse of jealousy which he had recently experienced, this instantaneous burst of glowing tenderness showed him that he loved, as passionately as man ever loved. It was fortunate that the companion’s presence checked his impulse, for he was strongly tempted to fling himself at Franka’s feet and confess to her what made him so deeply unhappy. But he controlled himself. Franka must not be aware of the tempest that raged in his soul. He would not spoil the calm joy to which she had referred; yet he could not help knowing the source of this joy—could it be that on the very day she had made up her mind as to her future? Had the prince declared himself? But if that was the case, why was he not sitting by her side instead of Brother Chlodwig? Well, possibly she had not considered that proper. She had only invited the harmless “Brother” in order to confide in him her joy, in order that he might be let into the secret of the change of her destiny, he who had hitherto exerted such a powerful influence on her life, he who had been the guide in her vocation, the master builder of her fame. These thoughts had not occupied ten seconds. He took her hand which still lay on his arm and held it firmly with a tender pressure.