It was the hour of departure for one of the railroad trains. The street was wide, and the ground on both sides of it was not entirely occupied yet with houses, many carriages on wheels, and a multitude of sleighs were hastening toward the near railway station. The sleighs shot forward with clinking harness, the snow under wheels squeaked complainingly, the drivers uttered brief shouts. The hats of men and women, various kinds of furs, the liveries of coachmen, the horses puffing steam, covered here and there with colored nets, formed a motley, changing line, moving forward with a rattle and an outcry along the white snow, in an atmosphere glittering from frost and sunlight.
One of the carriages looked like a flower garden. Roses, camelias, pinks, and violets were creeping out—simply pouring out—through its windows. The carriage was filled with bouquets, garlands, baskets. Among these, as in a flood of various colors, appeared in the heart of it the broad-rimmed hat of a woman. Immediately behind the carriage rushed a sleigh drawn by a pair of grand horses, the driver wearing an enormous fur collar, and in the sleigh were two young men, at whose feet again was a basket of flowers, but the finest and costliest, very rare and expensive orchids. The carriage and sleigh shot forward through the many-colored crowd of the street, as if some enchanted vision of spring had risen through the snow and then vanished.
"Who is that lady in the carriage filled with flowers?" asked
Darvid, turning to his companions.
"Bianca Biannetti."
That was a name which needed no commentary. Darvid smiled, with satisfaction. It was not wonderful that Maryan and the little baron were escorting to the station that woman of European fame, and were taking flowers to her. Of course, of course. He himself a number of times in his life—and if it was not offener, it was because time had failed him.
"There will be an amusing history to-day at the station," said the engineer. "A special train for Bianca; it is to leave five minutes after the regular one."
"For what purpose?" asked the architect.
"It is easy to divine: to have five minutes longer to enjoy the society of the great singer."
"An extra train! That is madness!" said Darvid. "Who did this?"
The engineer and architect exchanged significant glances, and the former answered: