Schnetz got into the carriage with them, in order to accompany the uncle and niece to the station. The curtains were drawn down on the first floor of the hotel. The countess was still sleeping. As far as she was concerned, Irene would have had no need to pull down her veil over her face before she got into the carriage. But from behind it her eyes wandered restlessly hither and thither, across the square and through the streets; for she feared that he from whom she was fleeing might have taken up his post somewhere in the vicinity, in order to keep watch upon her movements.
He was nowhere to be seen. She noticed, on the other hand, a beautiful blonde lady who happened to be crossing the square just at that moment, accompanied by a rather insignificant-looking female companion and a male escort, and who had to stand still in order to let the carriage pass. Schnetz did not recognize them until they had gone by, but then he waved his hat excitedly by way of greeting, and gazed after them for some time longer.
"Who was that you were bowing to?" asked Irene.
"Take a good look at that man, my dear Fräulein. He is only a sculptor, not yet as celebrated as he deserves to be, and by birth the son of a peasant. But I have never known a man of more genuine nobility, and he alone would make the bad society in which I delight to move the very best in the world. Of the two ladies one is a painter, a very good person and not a bad artist by any means, while the beautiful one on Jansen's left--"
"Jansen?"
"Do you know the name? Perhaps you have already seen some of his works?"
She stammered out a confused answer, and leaned far out of the carriage as if she wanted to take another look at the party. All her blood had mounted to her cheeks.
So that was he with whom Felix now passed his days, that friend of his youth whose presence and society made up for all lost happiness!
A secret jealousy, which she was ashamed to admit even to herself, arose within her. Luckily for her the carriage drew up a few minutes after before the entrance of the station; and in the confusion of getting out and taking leave of their faithful companion, she was able to recover herself so far as to throw back her veil once more and to exact from Schnetz, with the merriest mien in the world, a promise that he would come out to the lake and visit them very, very soon.
The whistle of the locomotive had long died away, and our friend stood in the middle of the square, like a post, with his eyes fixed on the ground.