Euchar begged for a few minutes time just to change his dress, and promised to come then at once and see with his own eyes how all things had worked together for Ludwig's happiness.
Ludwig came to meet his friend at the bottom of the stair, and begged him to make as little noise as possible in coming up, explaining that Victorine often suffered terribly from nervous headaches, and had a bad one just then, which rendered her nervous system so sensitive that she could hear the very softest footfall in any part of the house, although her own rooms were in the most distant part of it. Consequently they two now crept as softly as they could up the stairs, which were thickly carpeted, into Ludwig's own room. After the heartiest outpourings of gladness at seeing his old companion again, Ludwig rang the bell, but immediately cried out, "Oh, Lord, what have I done, wretch that I am!" putting both his hands before his face. And it was not long before a snappish creature of a lady's maid came in screeching out to Ludwig in a horrible, vulgar tone of voice, "Herr Baron, for heaven's sake what are you doing? You'll kill my lady. She's in spasms now."
"Good gracious! my good Nettie," said Ludwig in a lamentable voice, "I really forgot all about it. I was so happy. Here is the greatest friend I have in the world come to see me. We haven't met for years. He's an old intimate friend of your mistress, too. Go and beg her--implore her--to let me bring him to her." Ludwig put money into her hand, and she made her exit with a vixenish "I'll see what I can do."
Euchar, finding himself in presence of a situation which is but too common in life, and is consequently served up to us ad nauseam in comedies and novels, had his own particular ideas as to his friend's domestic happiness. He felt with Ludwig all the painfulness of the position, and began to talk about indifferent subjects. But Ludwig would not give in to this, saying that what had been happening to him since they had been apart had been too remarkable and interesting that he should delay for a moment to communicate it to Euchar.
"Of course," he began, "you remember that evening when we were all at Madame Veh's and you told the Story of your friend Edgar's adventures. And, of course, you remember how Victorine flamed up into jealousy and showed her heart, which was blazing with passion, without disguise. Idiot that I was--I fully admit to you that I was an idiot--I fell desperately in love with that little Spanish dancing girl, and thought that I could read in her eyes that my love was not without some hope. Perhaps you noticed that at the finish of her fandango, whim she made the eggs into a pyramid the apex of that pyramid was directed towards me. I was sitting just in the centre of the circle behind Madame Veh's chair. Now could she have expressed more clearly how deep her interest in me was? I wanted to find the dear little creature out the next morning, but it was not a part of the mutual interdependence of things that I should succeed in that. I had almost forgotten all about her when chance----"
"The mutual interdependence of things, you mean," interrupted Euchar.
"Well, well," went on Ludwig. "But, at all events, a few days afterwards I was going through the Park, and in front of that Café where you and I saw that little Spanish girl for the first time, out came the landlady rushing--oh, you have no idea what an interest that good woman, who got the vinegar and water that day when I hurt my knee, takes in me still--but that is not to the present purpose--to ask if I knew what had become of the little Spanish girl and her companion, who used to come there so often, and of whom nothing had been seen for several weeks. Next day I took a great deal of trouble to find out whether she was in the town or not, but it did not lie in the mutual interdependence of things that I should succeed in this. And my heart repented of the foolishness it had been so near committing, and turned back again to the heavenly Victorine. But my crime of infidelity to her had made such a profound impression upon that super-sensitive organization of hers that she refused to see me or even to hear my name mentioned. Good old Cochenille assured me that she had fallen into a state of absolute melancholia; that she would often cry till the was almost breathless, and wail in the most pathetic manner, saying 'He is lost to me. I have lost him for ever.' You may imagine the effect which all this produced upon me--how I was dissolved in sorrow over this unfortunate misunderstanding. Cochenille proffered me his aid. He said he would diplomatically convince the Countess that I was quite an altered man, never dancing more than four times at the most at balls, sitting at the theatre staring at the stage in an oblivious manner, and paying not the smallest attention to my clothes. I sent a flowing stream of gold pieces into his hands, and in return he gave me fresh hopes every morning. At last Victorine allowed me to see her again. How lovely she was! Oh, Victorine, my darling--beautiful, sweetest of wives--amiability and kindness personified!"
Here Nettchen came in and said that the Baroness was astonished at the Baron's extraordinary conduct. First he rang the bell as if the house were on fire, and then he asked her to receive a visitor in the exceedingly critical state of her health. She most certainly could not see anybody that day whoever it might be, and begged the strange gentleman to excuse her. Nettchen looked Euchar straight in the eyes, scanned him over carefully from head to foot, and left the room.
Ludwig stared before him in silence, and then continued his tale in a low voice and with bated breath, saying, "You can't imagine the degree of almost contemptuous coldness with which Victorine received me. If it hadn't been that her previous outbursts of burning affection had convinced me that this coldness was merely put on to punish me, I should really have had my doubts, and should have hesitated. But at last this counterfeiting got too difficult for her, her behaviour grew kindlier and kindlier, till all in a moment she gave me her shawl to carry. And then my triumph was utterly brilliant. I rearranged that 'seize' of mine, which had played such an important part in my destiny, danced it with her in the most heavenly manner, whispered in her ear--at the proper moment, whilst balancing myself on tiptoe and placing my arm about her--'Heavenly Countess, I love you unspeakably! Angel of light, I implore you to be mine.' Victorine smiled into my eyes; but that did not prevent me from paying the proper visit the next morning, with the good help of my friend Cochenille, at the fitting hour, about one o'clock, and making my formal proposal for her hand. She gazed at me in silence. I threw myself at her feet, seized that hand which was to be mine, and covered it with glowing kisses. She allowed me to do this; but I really felt it a good deal, and thought it was extremely queer, that all the time her eyes were fixed steadfastly upon nothing that I could discover, staring before her as if she had been a lifeless image. But at last a great tear or two came to her eyes. She pressed my hand so vehemently that, as I happened to have a sore finger, I could scarcely help crying out with the pain of it, rose from her chair, and left the room with her handkerchief over her face. I had no doubts as to my good fortune. I hastened to the Count and made my formal proposal for his daughter.
"'Good. Very good, indeed, my dear Baron,' said the Count, smiling in the most affable manner. 'But have you given the Countess any intimation of this? Have you given her any opportunity of inferring it at all? Are you beloved? I admit that I am foolish enough to take the greatest possible interest in love matters.'