This distinguished man now, as in former winters, patronised occasionally the harmless amusements of the little circle whose strong point could hardly be called intellect. His appearance was hailed with respectful enthusiasm; everyone made room for him, and hung on his lips in anticipation of scathing personal remarks when he leaned back in his chair with his melancholy sympathetic smile and stroked his pointed reddish beard. But he did not always fill the rôle of jester expected of him. He would sometimes engage in a tête-à-tête conversation, or sit alone, lost in silent meditation.
He could even show, when he liked, a playful naïveté, such as a leopard displays when it gambols with puppies. He seldom spoke to Lilly. But his penetrating eyes often wandered over her face with a scrutinising glance. She felt every time he did this that he amused himself by skimming the emotions of her soul.
One evening he sat down next her, and asked if she would cut up his meat for him, as he had unfortunately sprained his wrist in strangling a certain celebrity.... Next, in growing intimacy, he desired her to feed him, which he might easily have done himself with his left hand, which was not disabled.
Thus they found themselves conversing seriously for the first time. Lilly trembled at the honour. She was afraid of not distinguishing herself.
"I am quite astonished," he said, "that, after knocking about with this ribald crew for over two years, your eyes do not betray you."
"How should they?" she asked.
"Kindly look one moment at the women collected here"--and he indicated with his finger Frau Jula, Welter, and Karla, and two or three more. "How they roll their eyes! how they look up under them! All that is the lingo of ... I was going to say vice; but I detest expressions that are so guiltless of nuances, so I will say instead, the lingo of a criminal phantasy. Do you understand?"
"I think so," murmured Lilly.
"Now you, my dearest lady, still retain something of the childlike innocence of former years in your glance. Not all, but something. A soupçon of contempt has crept in. No, contempt is not exactly the right word. On the outskirts of deserts there are certain salt pools that are green, dark, and empty, because the ground is poisoned. Do you grasp what I mean?"
"I'm not sure that I do," she said.