Following her direction, he saw that the window looked down obliquely on the imposing architecture of the Opera House. The mellow October sunlight drifted softly across gray roofs and fell in an orange splash into the deep fissure of the street below. Along the pavements the tide of traffic wandered nervelessly. On a neighboring ledge, two plump pigeons were engaged in an ardent courtship.
“What did we miss? I see nothing.”
Then he noticed the panting of her bosom and that her expression was tender with tremulous emotion.
Drawing her fine fingers across her eyes, she shuddered. “Stupid of me! I forgot; they would bring back nothing to you—the scent of the roses and then the Opera House, looking the same as ever. I've been dreaming of other mornings, when I woke after nights of triumph. Perhaps it was this room that set me remembering. It's not the first time I've slept in it.” As she caught his eyes reading her memories, she flushed guiltily. “Yes, in those days I was never lonely.”
“But the roses!” he reminded her impatiently. “How did you get them? At the price things cost in Vienna, some one must have spent a fortune.”
She placed a hand on his arm appealingly. “Don't begrudge me. He must have known. I think he did it for my burial.”
Her words sent a chill through him. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “We're in too tight a corner to waste energy on sentiment. If we're going to make a fight for it, we've got to keep our heads clear. Who gave them to you?”
She pressed her forehead against the warm pane. The gold of the world outside cast a sheen of gold on her profile. Her unwanted loveliness hurt him. It reproached him. It recalled to him the ache of his old desire in the days before he had known that he could have her. And now that he could have her for the asking....
“Captain Lajos gave them to me. They've been arriving ever since we parted. He waited till you'd gone; then he came to me. He came to tell me why he'd followed me. He was persuaded I was your mistress. This morning he did something noble—very noble for a man of his sort to a woman of mine; he begged me to become his wife.”
“Without knowing anything about you? He must be mad.”