When, half-an-hour later, Reinhold returned from the office, he saw the bouquet of roses lying on the writing-table in his own room, and took it up under the firm impression that Jonas had put it there. In the meanwhile Ella sat in her child's room and waited, not for a farewell from her husband, she had not been used to such tendernesses ever since her marriage; but she knew he never left the house without first going to see his boy. The wife felt only too well that she herself was nothing to her husband, that her only value for him lay in the child; she felt that the love for his child was the only point by which she could approach his heart, and therefore she waited here for him in order to hold the terribly difficult and painful interview. He must surely come; but to-day she had to wait in vain. Reinhold did not come. For the first time he forgot the farewell kiss on his child's brow--forgot the last and only bond which chained him to his home. In his heart there was only room now for one thought, and that was Beatrice Biancona.
The opera was over. A stream of people flowed out of the theatre, dispersing in all directions, and carriages rolled by on every side to take up their respective owners. The house had been filled to overflowing, as the Italian Opera Company had given their farewell performance, and all H---- had tried to show the singers, especially the prima donna, how much charmed it was with their efforts, and how sorry it was to lose them now the hour of parting had arrived. The stairs and corridors were still crowded; below in the vestibule people were closely packed, and at the places of egress the numbers increased to an uncomfortable, almost dangerous degree.
"It is almost impossible to get through," said Doctor Welding, who, with another gentleman, descended the stairs. "One's life is imperilled in the crush below. Rather let us wait until the rush is over!"
His companion agreed, and both stepped aside into one of the deep, dark niches in the corridor, where a lady had already taken shelter. Her dress, although simple, betokened that she belonged to the upper classes; she had drawn her veil closely over her face, and appeared to avoid the crowd, also to feel quite strange in the theatre, from the manner in which she pressed herself with evident nervousness firmly against the wall, when the two gentlemen approached, and, without paying any attention to her, resumed their interrupted conversation.
"I prophesied it from the commencement that this Almbach would make a great sensation," said Welding; "his second composition surpasses his first in every respect; and the first was great enough for a beginner. I should think he might be satisfied with its reception this time; it was, if possible, more enthusiastic. Certainly, every one has not the luck to find a Biancona for his works, and to inspire her for them, so that she exerts her utmost power. It was altogether her idea to sing this newest song of Almbach's as introduction to the last act of the opera, to-day, too, at her farewell; when applause was a matter of course, she made sure, by those means, of success at once."
"Well, I don't think he is wanting in gratitude," scoffed the other gentleman. "People say all sorts of things. So much is certain, all her circle of adorers is furious at this interloper, who hardly appears before he is on the high road to be sole ruler. The affair, besides, seems rather serious and highly romantic, and I am really anxious to see what will be the end of it, when Biancona departs."
The Doctor buttoned his overcoat quietly--
"That is not difficult to guess; an elopement of the first order."
"You think he will elope with her?" asked the other incredulously.
"He with her? That would be objectless. Biancona is perfectly free to decide what she likes, as to the choice of her residence. But she with him; that would be more like the case--the fetters are on his side."