As they sat or stood, they divided naturally into various groups. Some passed through the open doors to the terraces, and among these was Franka on Helmer’s arm.
It was a bright moonlit night in June; the air was full of intoxicating fragrance rising from the dense parterres of roses. On the neighboring lake glided illuminated boats, and even up in the air could occasionally be seen a light moving swiftly by—probably some sentimental aëronaut on an evening flight. Quite unobtrusively yet distinctly was heard the music of an orchestra playing in a neighboring concert-hall.
Franka sat down in a rocking-chair at the end of the terrace and Helmer stood by her side leaning against the balustrade. They gazed and listened for some little time without speaking. Franka wrapped a trifle closer around her the white silken scarf which she had thrown over her shoulders.
“A cool breeze blows from the lake,” she remarked.
“Shall we go back to the hall?”
“Oh, no, it is fine here. Everything is so beautiful, so dreamy, so magical.... Is it not remarkable that we two should meet here as colleagues in the Knighthood of the Roses? How many years is it since we first met in grandfather’s chamber at the Sielenburg? You a poor secretary, I a poor orphan girl!—You are now a great and celebrated poet!”
“And you—the Garlett! The name has such a distinction that nothing more needs to be added to it.”
“What I have come to be, Brother Chlodwig, I owe to you. Had it not been for those letters....”
“Well, yes; perhaps everything would have been different—perhaps more happily for you.... I find in your face a trace of seriousness, sometimes of sadness, which was not there when I saw you last.”
It had been two years since that last time. Circumstances had frequently separated these two friends. Helmer had settled in Berlin, where, after the successful performances of his drama, he had accepted a position as a subdirector of the Royal Theater. Franka had frequently been absent on her journeys, had spent one whole winter in southern Italy for a complete rest;—in short, there had always been intervals of several months, and finally now two years had elapsed without Franka and Helmer’s having met.