Karl's paroxysm of rage and pain over, he threw himself into a chair and buried his face in his hands. He did not even look up as Millar, his cynical glance fixed on him, walked out, closing the door softly behind him. His departure seemed to clear the atmosphere of its oppressive burden of evil, however, and Karl jumped to his feet. He made a few turns up and down the studio and then changed his velvet studio jacket for a greatcoat and plunged out of doors into the storm.
CHAPTER VII
A brisk walk through the snow and gathering darkness revived him and he turned back to the studio with a clearer brain. His old servant, Heinrich, met him at the door.
"Monsieur, the gentleman has returned and is dressing," the old man said, in an awe-struck whisper. "I think he is the devil," he added vindictively.
Heinrich had been terrified when Millar, returning to the studio in Karl's absence, had taken possession, with the utmost coolness, of Karl's guest-chamber and proceeded to change to the evening clothes which had been sent to him there from the tailor's. Unwilling to meet the man again, Karl hurried into his own room and locked the door. He did not emerge again until long after Millar had completed his dressing and had left the studio.
Karl tried desperately to drive thoughts of Olga from his mind; but the terrible flame of passion which had grown from the tiny, buried spark of boy love that lurked in his heart, under the sinister suggestion of Millar, tortured him. He could hardly keep himself from rushing off to Olga's house, in advance of the ball, to beg her not to proceed with her design of bringing him and Elsa together; to tell her that he loved her and that in all the world there lived no other woman for him. Desperately, at last, he remembered his promise to see Mimi, and he hurried out and made his way afoot to the tattered little buildings in which she lived, hoping there to find forgetfulness. But, go where he would, the haunting black eyes, the cynical smile, that even, persistent voice, the insidious suggestions of Millar, the devil, followed him and would not be shaken off.
In a state of mind even more desperate than that of Karl, Olga went home with Herman. Their journey was as silent as their carriage was silent. Herman was absorbed in contemplation of the information Millar had given him regarding business affairs in Russia, in which he was heavily interested. Olga was torn by conflicting emotions. The man had roused in her the dormant love for Karl which she believed buried forever. She could not deny to herself now, as she had denied for six years, that she loved him. She knew now that during those six years it had been to Karl, not to Herman, that she had turned for sympathy, for understanding, and the knowledge maddened her.