Harz watched his figure huddled again beneath the hood. The carriage moved slowly away.
XVIII
At Villa Rubein people went about, avoiding each other as if detected in conspiracy. Miss Naylor, who for an inscrutable reason had put on her best frock, a purple, relieved at the chest with bird's-eye blue, conveyed an impression of trying to count a chicken which ran about too fast. When Greta asked what she had lost she was heard to mutter: “Mr.—Needlecase.”
Christian, with big circles round her eyes, sat silent at her little table. She had had no sleep. Herr Paul coming into the room about noon gave her a furtive look and went out again; after this he went to his bedroom, took off all his clothes, flung them passionately one by one into a footbath, and got into bed.
“I might be a criminal!” he muttered to himself, while the buttons of his garments rattled on the bath.
“Am I her father? Have I authority? Do I know the world? Bssss! I might be a frog!”
Mrs. Decie, having caused herself to be announced, found him smoking a cigar, and counting the flies on the ceiling.
“If you have really done this, Paul,” she said in a restrained voice, “you have done a very unkind thing, and what is worse, you have made us all ridiculous. But perhaps you have not done it?”
“I have done it,” cried Herr Paul, staring dreadfully: “I have done it, I tell you, I have done it—”