These words were probably intended to counteract any impression his agitation at seeing her might have produced, and they had the desired result. Some seconds clasped before she continued.
"You had already spoken of my journey to the servants in the afternoon?"
"Yes, I thought you would wish it, and it seemed best that the order for the necessary preparation should come from me. Had you thought of introducing the subject in any other way? If so, I regret that I was not earlier made acquainted with your views."
His tone was frigid, and Eugénie felt as though an icy breath had been wafted over to her. Involuntarily she retreated a step.
"I have no observation to make, only it surprised me that my departure, the date of which had once been fixed, should now be hastened on. You had, I thought, reasons which would have induced you to keep to our arrangement."
"I? On this point I yielded to a wish, to a request of yours. Baron Windeg gave me to understand, at least, that it was so."
Eugénie started. She drew a long breath of relief, and all shyness and uncertainty vanished, as though, with this one answer, her courage had wholly returned to her.
"I thought so! My father went too far, Arthur; he spoke in my name, when he was only setting forth his own wishes. I have come now to clear up this misunderstanding, and to tell you that I shall not go, at least not until I hear from your lips that you wish me to do so."
Eugénie watched him with breathless attention, as though striving to read in his eyes what was passing in his mind; but they were downcast still, and her words produced no visible effect. His features relaxed once as she spoke of a misunderstanding, or so she fancied, but the change in him was but momentary, and, after a pause of a few seconds, he replied coldly and composedly as ever: "You will not go? And why not?" She stepped up to him and said resolutely: "You told me yourself the other day that all your future is involved in the coming struggle. I know since our last meeting with Hartmann that it will be fought out to the uttermost, and that your position is even more critical than you will allow. At such a time I can and will not leave you, it would be cowardly, and" ...
"You are very generous," interrupted Arthur with ill-concealed bitterness. "But to perform an act of generosity, some one must be found willing to accept it, and I certainly am not willing to accept yours."