It had been no fault of his; no man can love because he will; and still——
He stayed out in the gardens until the lights had ceased to shine in the great windows, and in the distant country lying beyond the forest belt of Amyôt the call to vespers was ringing through the darkling daybreak from village tower and spire, waking the slumbering peasants to their toil amidst the vines or on the river.
Then he entered the house and went to his wife's apartments.
When her woman asked if she would receive him she smiled a little. He was like a repentant child, she thought, sorry that he had been ill-treated and tired of pouting!
'I am half asleep!' she said as he entered. 'Why do you come and disturb me? Where have you been all the evening? You look as if you had seen the ghosts of all the tellers of the tales of the Heptameron!'
She laughed a little as she spoke; she had put on a loose gown of soft white tissues, her hair was unbound; her feet were bare and slipped in Persian shoes sewn thick with pearls. She was lying back amongst the pale rose-coloured cushions of her couch in the hot night; her arms were uncovered to the shoulders; the light was mellow and tempered; the window stood open; a slight breeze stirred the air and the gauze of her gown; her eyes surveyed him with a smile of languid amusement.
'Pauvre enfant! a-t-il assez boudé!' she thought with an indulgent derision.
Othmar, for the first time in his life, was insensible of the seduction of her presence. She observed his preoccupation with some offence. It was a slight to herself.
'What is the matter?' she said impatiently. 'When I am dying to be alone and asleep, do you come to tell me that the Rothschilds will not join you in some loan, or that war is going to begin before the financiers wish for it? Surely, your bad news would have kept till to-morrow morning? Qu'avez-vous donc?'
Othmar winced under the irritability and lightness of the words.