“Charming,” the Austrian agreed.
“Has a strong sense of humour for a German.”
The engineer thoughtfully blew rings of smoke. “She is altogether delightful,” he said.
They fell silent again. Then the American said: “Isn’t it rather absurd of us to spoil each other’s chances? Let us throw dice, and abide by that!”
“Very well, let us do so,” the engineer agreed. He took the dice-box, shook it, and emptied it. The little cubes rattled down on the marble. “Eighteen,” the engineer announced, astonished at his own good fortune.
The other gathered up the dice, also shook the box, let the dice glide on the table-top, and calmly announced “Eighteen!” He was equally unable—with more reason of course—to hide his astonishment.
The two men felt rather helpless. They were careful not to repeat their question to fate. They finished their wine, and separated with all due courtesy.
Letitia lay abed with wide-open eyes and listened to the throb of the engines, the soft crashing of the walls of the ship, and the humming of Eleutheria, who was soothing the twins in the adjoining stateroom. She thought of Genoa, the fast approaching goal of her voyage; and her imagination showed her gorgeously clad grandees and romantic conspirators in the style of Fiesco of Genoa, and torch-lit alleys and adventures of love and passion. Life seemed to her aglow with colour, and the future a gate of gold.
XXVIII
The child had disappeared.