Goswyn's state of mind was indescribable. He hastily changed his uniform and made ready for the dinner. His nerves were quivering with a dread that he could not explain. "He never can bring himself to get a divorce," he said to himself; "and if he forgives----"
Disgust seemed fairly to choke him; he took shame to himself for having suggested such a course to Otto for a moment. He had no right to despise Otto. The old family affection for his brother revived in him in full force.
As soon as he was dressed he belied his usual Spartan habits by sending for a droschky. It would give him time to stop for a moment at Dorothea's lodgings to see what was going on there. The monotonous jogging of the vehicle soothed his nerves: his thoughts began to stray. As it turned into Moltke Street the droschky moderated its speed, and at the same instant a dull sound as of the excited voices of a crowd struck upon his ear. He looked out of the carriage window, upon a close throng of human beings. The vehicle stopped; he sprang out.
There was a crowd before the house occupied by his sister-in-law. Shoulder to shoulder men were pushing eagerly forward. A smothered murmur made itself heard; now and then a cynical speech fell distinctly on the ear, or a burst of laughter that died away without an echo, mingled with the curses of coachmen who could not make their way through the mass of humanity crowding there in the pale March twilight, through which the glare of the lanterns shone yellow and dreary. At first he could not get to the house; but the crowd soon made way for his officer's uniform.
He rang the bell loudly. Some time passed before the door was opened for him. Measures had evidently been taken to baffle the curiosity of the crowd.
The door of Dorothea's apartments, however, was open. He hurried onward, finding at first no one to detain him or to give him any information.
In the cosy little room, now brilliantly lighted, where he had left his brother, stood Dorothea, evidently dressed to go out, in a gray gown, and a bonnet trimmed with pale pink roses, her cheeks ashy pale, her face hard and set in a frightful, unnatural smile.
"What has happened?" cried Goswyn.
She tried to reply, but the words would not come. The smile grew broader, and her eyes glowed. Her face recalled to him the evening at the Countess Brock's, when she looked around after her song and found herself the only woman in the room.
One or two persons had made their way into the room. Goswyn ordered them out, with an imperious air of command. "Where is he?" he asked, hoarsely. She pointed mutely to a door. He entered. It was her sleeping-room, airy, bright, luxurious; and there, at the foot of the bed, lay a dark figure, face downward, with outstretched arms.