Gustav declined politely, and glanced beyond her. There stood Inarime with a look of unmistakable rapture and alarm upon her face.
The baroness introduced them; they bowed, but did not dare trust themselves to speech or hand-clasp.
“Must you go at once, Herr Reineke?” asked the baroness, remarking the glory on his face.
“Madame, I must,” he said, and Rudolph saw that Inarime started violently, as if the sound of his voice thrilled her like pain.
Reineke shook hands with the baroness, not conscious that he was making all sorts of impossible promises, and then turned silently to the mute, harrowing eloquence of Inarime’s gaze, with one as unbearable in its piercing tenderness. Rudolph accompanied him downstairs and said nothing until Reineke held out his hand at the door.
“No, I cannot touch your hand, Herr Reineke. We must not meet again,” he said, grimly.
“As you wish, Herr Ehrenstein. I am sorry for you, but, as you see, I have not much cause for self-congratulation for myself.”
Rudolph said nothing, and flung away from him.
In the little salon he found Inarime alone, with her head bent down upon the table over her folded arms.