“The air has done me good; I feel much better now.”
“Then may I take you back to the Casino?” was Borgert’s answer, and the tone of his voice was full of disappointment.
“No, no, we will go up and have a cup of coffee; that will do us good, and I really do not feel like returning to that crowd of drunken people; it is simply disgusting!”
“Just as it pleases you, my most gracious lady!”
With that he inserted the key into the lock, opened the door, and both of them silently scaled the rather steep stairs, dark as Erebus.
When they had reached her cosy parlor, Borgert brought the lamp and lit it. He knew exactly the spot where he would find it in the dark, for his acquaintance with every nook of the apartments had come in the course of time with their mutual intimacy. Then he took up a newspaper and sat down in the sofa corner.
Frau Leimann had disappeared in the adjoining room; but it took her only a very few minutes to return, bearing in her hands the Vienna coffee machine, and presenting, now that she had resumed a comfortable and coquettish kimono in lieu of her masquerade costume, a most seductive picture.
“So,” said she, letting the heavy window curtains down, “now at last we are again where we can have a comfortable, undisturbed chat together.”
The first rosy dawn showed on the horizon as a heavy, lurching step was heard on the stone stairs outside. Frau Leimann blew out the lamp, and then resumed her seat on the sofa, leaning her head against the soft cushions.