“I shall do so most assuredly,” replied Marianne, placing her hand on the package, as though she were taking an oath. “In less than a month’s time the German people shall read this pamphlet. It shall be only the first comet which the secret league of which we are now members causes to appear on the dark firmament. Count on me; your manuscript will be published.”
Gentz bent over her hand and kissed it. He then rose.
“My purpose is accomplished,” he said; “I came to Vienna only to see you and enlist you as a member of my secret society. My purpose is accomplished, and I shall set out within an hour.”
“And why are you in such a hurry, my friend? Why depart in so stormy and wintry a night?” asked Marianne. “Remain with me for another day.”
“It is impossible, Marianne,” said Gentz, deprecatingly. “Friends like ourselves must have no secrets from each other, and are allowed fearlessly to tell each other every thing. The Countess of Lankoronska is waiting for me; I shall set out with her for Breslau.”
“Ah,” exclaimed Marianne, reproachfully, “Lord Paget, too, is going to leave Vienna, but I do not desert you in order to accompany him; I remain.”
“You are the sun around which the planets are revolving,” said Gentz, smiling; “but I am nothing but a planet. I am revolving around my sun.”
“You love the Countess of Lankoronska, then?”
“She is to me the quintessence of all womanly and of many manly accomplishments!” exclaimed Gentz, enthusiastically.
“And she will also join our secret society?” asked Marianne. “No,” said Gentz, hastily. “My heart adores her, but my mind will never forget that she is a Russian. Next to cold death and the French, I hate nothing so cordially as the Russians.”