A blush rose to her cheek, and something of her former sparkling fascination came back to her. Now and then she lifted her champagne glass to her lips. In close attention she listened to his stories. He spoke so well. Yonder the high shrieks of the soprano and the low growling of the bass intermingled with overpowering if somewhat ludicrous effect. The conservatory gradually filled with little groups who were making their escape from the drawing-room. Vincent came to join St. Clare and Eline.
“Je ne dérange pas?” asked he.
“Par exemple!” cried Eline.
It seemed as if the three of them had found themselves at some public fête. They scarcely knew one among all those curious people, and they amused themselves by laughing a little at them. The two old gentlemen’s collection of empty wine-glasses seemed to have grown larger and larger, and under the shady leaves of a banana the young man could be seen with his arm furtively encircling the waist of the little woman. In the other corner, where some glasses had just been broken, Vincent recognized some one, who posed as a Russian prince, engaged in boisterous chat with two circus-riders, and he could not understand how they could have been admitted even to Uncle Daniel’s drawing-room.
“Oh, they must have entered through a back door. I’m sure Elise cannot know that they are here,” laughed Eline.
In the salon the programme was proceeding. They sang, they recited, both serious and comic pieces, but the stillness of admiration grew less and less. In the conservatory the Russian prince ran after the circus-riders, and tried to embrace them; and the two old gentlemen all at once broke out in a terribly angry dispute. The young couple had disappeared.
“I should advise you to return a little closer to your uncle and aunt. The company is certainly getting rather mixed here,” said St. Clare to Eline.
Vincent had left them. Eline rose a little anxiously, and St. Clare followed her. But in the salon Elise was surrounded by a very noisy group, of which the ladies smoked cigarettes and spilt more champagne on their dresses than they drank. St. Clare led Eline to the terrace. His eyes sparkled and his lips twitched [[277]]nervously as his glance fell on the group by which Elise was surrounded.
“How did you really get here?” he suddenly asked Eline in a tone of dissatisfaction which he could not hide. “How is it possible that I could have met you here?”
She looked at him in astonishment.