Nikky first, a subdued and rather battered Nikky. He was possessed by a desire, not indeed unknown to lovers, to revisit the place where he and Hedwig had met before. The roof—no less. Not even then that he hoped for himself any more than he had hoped before. But at least it could not be Karl.
He felt that he could relinquish her more easily since it was not Karl. As if, poor Nikky, it would ever make any difference who it was, so it were not he!
Strangely enough, Hedwig also had had a fancy to visit the roof. She could not sleep. And, as she had not read the Chancellor’s mind, her dressing-room, filled to overflowing with her trousseau, set her frantic.
So she had dismissed her maid and gone through Hubert’s rooms to the roof. Nikky found her there. He stood quite still for a moment, because it was much too good to be true. Also, because he began to tremble again. He had really turned quite shaky that evening, had Nikky.
Hedwig did not turn her head. She knew his steps, had really known he must come, since she was calling him. Actually calling, with all her determined young will. Oh, she was shameless!
But now that he had come, it was Nikky who implored, and Hedwig who held off.
“My only thought in all the world,” he said. “Can you ever forgive me?” This was tactless. No lover should ever remind his lady that he has withstood her.
“For what?” said Hedwig coolly.
“For loving you so.” This was much better, quite strategic, indeed. A trench gained!
“Do you really love me? I wonder.”