The words might have offended another patron, but not the man to whom they were spoken. Influential millionaire as he was, Nordheim had enough of flattery and servility, and despised both from the bottom of his soul. This quiet self-possession, not a whit destroyed by his presence, impressed him; he felt it was something akin to his own nature. 'Fortune favours the bold!' It had been his own maxim by which he had mounted the social ladder, and this Elmhorst looked as if he never would be content with remaining on its lower rounds. The frown vanished from his brow, but his eyes remained fixed upon the young engineer's face as if to read his very soul,--his most secret thoughts. After a pause of a few seconds he said, slowly, "We will admit the proverb to be right this time. Come!"
In Elmhorst's eyes there was a flash of triumph; he bowed low, and followed Nordheim through several rooms to the other wing of the house.
Nordheim was occupying one of the most beautiful and elegant villas in the fashionable spa. Half hidden by the green shade of the shrubberies, it enjoyed a charming prospect of the mountain-range, and its interior was wanting in none of the luxuries to which spoiled and wealthy guests are accustomed. In the drawing-room the glass door alone was open, the jalousies were closed to keep out the glare of sunlight, and in the cool, darkened room sat two ladies.
The elder, who held a book, and was apparently reading, was no longer young. Her dress, from the lace cap covering her gray hair to the hem of her dark silk gown, was scrupulously neat, and she sat up stiff and cool and elegant, an embodiment of the rules of etiquette. The younger, a girl of sixteen at most, a delicate, pale, frail creature, was sitting, or rather reclining, in a large arm-chair. Her head was supported by a silken cushion, and her hands were crossed idly and languidly in the lap of her white, lace-trimmed morning-gown. Her face, although hardly beautiful, was pleasing, but it wore a weary, apathetic expression which made it lifeless when, as at present, the eyes were half closed and the young lady seemed to be dozing.
"Herr Wolfgang Elmhorst," said the president, introducing his companion. "I believe he is not quite a stranger to you, Alice. Frau Baroness Lasberg."
Alice slowly opened her eyes, large brown eyes, which, however, shared the apathetic expression of her other features. There was not the slightest interest in her glance, and she seemed to remember neither the name nor the person of the young man. Frau von Lasberg, on the other hand, looked surprised. Only Wolfgang Elmhorst and nothing more? Gentlemen without rank or title were not wont to be admitted to the Nordheim circle; there surely must be something extraordinary about this young man, since the president himself introduced him. Nevertheless his courteous bow was acknowledged with frigid formality.
"I cannot expect Fräulein Nordheim to remember me," said Wolfgang, advancing. "Our meeting was a very transient one; I am all the more grateful to the Herr President for his introduction to-day. But I fear Fräulein Nordheim is ill?"
"Only rather fatigued from her journey," the president made answer in his daughter's stead. "How are you to-day, Alice?"
"I feel wretched, papa," the young lady replied in a gentle voice, but one quite devoid of expression.
"The heat of the sun in the narrow valley is insufferable," Frau von Lasberg observed. "This sultry atmosphere always has an unfavourable effect upon Alice; I fear she will not be able to bear it."