"Poor Felix!" he murmured thoughtfully and sadly, "I can do nothing more for you; they have tied my hands."
Thus the last shadow of pleasure which Linda might have had at the dinner has vanished.
The Lanzbergs arrived a few minutes before the Garzins. Scirocco received them at the foot of the terrace, offered Linda his arm, with somewhat formal politeness, and escorted her to his sister in the drawing-room, not in the cosey, brown wainscoted one, but in a ceremonious chamber hung with Gobelins. The Countess rose at her entrance and took two steps to meet her, then introduced her to those present with her usual absent-mindedness, naturally to Rhoeden also, at which Linda began to laugh; but as no one joined in her merriment, her pretty, attractive face suited itself to the universal gravity.
Poor Linda, she so petted, so spoiled, to-day sees not a welcoming face, even among the men.
The Countess exchanges polite commonplaces with her, while she addresses remarks to Klette in between. The chair near the sofa on which Linda sits remains empty. Pistasch, whose humorous talents are to-day wholly imperceptible, presents the appearance of a distinguished statue, and exchanges a few words with Eugene, while Scirocco with unnatural liveliness has entered into a conversation with Felix.
At last the Garzins appear--every one thaws. The Countess does not walk, no, she runs to meet Elsa, kisses her on both cheeks, scolds Garzin for permitting his wife to look so pale, accidentally steps on Linda's train, turns round and says, "Ah, pardon me, Baroness!" a perfectly polite little phrase which makes Linda feel as if cold water had been thrown over her.
The dinner is announced. Scirocco takes Linda in with the same strange formality which she perceives in him to-day for the first time. At the table a charming surprise does indeed await her--a bouquet of stephanotis and gardenias.
"Oh, Scirocco!" cries she, perhaps a very little too loudly, "that is too lovely! It reminds me of Rome," she adds softly.
She is already so nervous that she would like to burst into tears at the pretty attention. Her eyes sparkle, and a fleeting blush crimsons her cheeks. Scirocco is sorry for her. "I am glad that you appreciate my good memory," says he, bending slightly towards her. Then he notices how suddenly no less than three pairs of eyes watch him closely, those of Klette, Pistasch, and Rhoeden; he feels that Linda's excited manner is most suited to strengthen this distrustful trio in their suspicion, and immediately turns to Elsa.
"I could not conjure up any white elder, unfortunately, Snowdrop," says he, shaking his handsome head vexedly.