“Marry you, Gemma, be your husband—I can imagine no bliss greater!”
To his love, his magnanimity, his determination—he was aware of no limits now.
When she heard those words, Gemma, who had stopped still for an instant, went on faster than ever…. She seemed trying to run away from this too great and unexpected happiness! But suddenly her steps faltered. Round the corner of a turning, a few paces from her, in a new hat and coat, straight as an arrow and curled like a poodle—emerged Herr Klüber. He caught sight of Gemma, caught sight of Sanin, and with a sort of inward snort and a backward bend of his supple figure, he advanced with a dashing swing to meet them. Sanin felt a pang; but glancing at Klüber’s face, to which its owner endeavoured, as far as in him lay, to give an expression of scornful amazement, and even commiseration, glancing at that red-cheeked, vulgar face, he felt a sudden rush of anger, and took a step forward.
Gemma seized his arm, and with quiet decision, giving him hers, she looked her former betrothed full in the face…. The latter screwed up his face, shrugged his shoulders, shuffled to one side, and muttering between his teeth, “The usual end to the song!” (Das alte Ende vom Liede!)—walked away with the same dashing, slightly skipping gait.
“What did he say, the wretched creature?” asked Sanin, and would have rushed after Klüber; but Gemma held him back and walked on with him, not taking away the arm she had slipped into his.
The Rosellis’ shop came into sight. Gemma stopped once more.
“Dimitri, Monsieur Dimitri,” she said, “we are not there yet, we have not seen mamma yet…. If you would rather think a little, if … you are still free, Dimitri!”
In reply Sanin pressed her hand tightly to his bosom, and drew her on.
“Mamma,” said Gemma, going with Sanin to the room where Frau Lenore was sitting, “I have brought the real one!”