“No; but when an old man is dying things seem different. I think I ought to go.”
“Telegraph for your father’s permission,” said Mouse, leaning against the balustrade and playing with her long gold muff chain. She was thinking of many things: she was certain in her own mind that the man now stricken down at Monte Carlo could tell much about his daughter’s divorce, if he could not, which she thought possible, tell that which would reunite his daughter and Vanderlin. It would never do to let his grandnephew, who was simplicity and veracity incarnate, get to the bedside and hear what might be the deathbed confessions. She wished to do that herself, for knowledge is always power.
The complete security with which Khris of Karstein had told her that he would prevent her schemes as to Vanderlin ever bearing fruition, must certainly point to one thing only, that he had the means to clear the character of his daughter to her divorced husband.
She hastily reasoned that, however odd it might look to others, she must see the old man before he died. After all, her visit to him could be put upon charity; poor Charity has borne many heavier and uglier burdens than the rosy children with which Correggio loaded her.
She felt moreover that she would like to see him, lying speechless, paralyzed, impatient; he had been so odiously rude!
Still playing with the long gold chain, she turned her eyes on young Woffram, dazzling him with their azure light.
“I feel like a brute to do nothing for him,” said the good-natured young cuirassier. “As to telegraphing to my father it would be a mere waste of money; he would never bear his uncle Khristof’s name mentioned.”
“Then I think you would do very foolishly to go near the old man,” said his friend. “It would embroil you with your people, and go against you at Berlin. I told you the other day that I am not afraid of compromising myself by being kind to people who are under a cloud. I will go and see after Prince Khris if you like; I was going to Monte Carlo to-morrow—I will go to-day instead. There is a train in an hour. I will telegraph you word how he is.”
The young man stared at her.
It seemed very angelic, but he was not accustomed to see her in such an angelic light, though he adored her. Simple and unsuspecting though he was he could not help seeing that there must be some interest in this offered charity beyond the benevolence visible on the surface.