"Whom I mentioned to you," interrupted the President. "He went out again after our arrival here to look after the steamer. I almost think that he must have lost his way among the sandhills, or that some accident has happened to him."
"Some men with lanterns should be sent after him," exclaimed the Count. "I will give the order at once."
And he moved towards the door.
"You need not trouble yourself," cried Elsa; "it has already been done at my request."
"Oh!" said the Count, with a smile; "indeed!"
The blood rose to Elsa's cheek. As she came into the room, and the Count turned quickly towards her--with his regular features and clear bright colouring, set off by a fair moustache--she had thought him good-looking, even handsome; the smile made him positively ugly. Why should he smile? She drew herself up to her full height.
"Captain Schmidt rendered us the most essential service during our passage; we have to thank him that we are here in safety. It seems to me only our duty not to leave him in the lurch now."
"But, my dear madam, I am quite of your opinion!" said the Count, and smiled again.
The veins in Elsa's temples were throbbing. She cast a reproachful glance at her father. Why did he leave her to defend a cause which after all was his? She did not know that her father was extremely vexed at the turn the conversation had taken, and was only doubting whether he could not use the Captain's absence as a pretext to avoid for himself and his daughter at least the Count's hospitality. She did not hear either with what marked emphasis he agreed to the necessity for waiting still some time longer, as she had left the room after her last words.
In the little entrance, in which through the wide open door the light from the carriage lamps now brightly shone, she stood still and pressed her slender hands against her brow. What had come over her so suddenly? Why had she been so eager? To provoke a stranger's smile by her over-eagerness, to draw upon herself the suspicion of taking a too lively interest in the person, when it was only the cause she cared about, only that a debt of courtesy, to say nothing of gratitude, might be paid? Supposing the people who seemed to be just leaving the yard with their lanterns should not find him? How long might she still wait? When ought she to say, We must start? Or, supposing he returned only to say that he was not thinking of going with them, and that childish scene had been acted for nothing? For the third time, and now with right and reason, the Count might smile.