It was Seraphina who restored him from the blow. She swam forward and smiled upon her husband with a sweetness that was insultingly artificial. “Frédéric,” she lisped, “you are late.” It was a scene of high comedy, such as is proper to unhappy marriages; and her aplomb disgusted him.
There was no etiquette at these small drawing-rooms. People came and went at pleasure. The window embrasures became the roost of happy couples; at the great chimney the talkers mostly congregated, each full-charged with scandal; and down at the farther end the gamblers gambled. It was towards this point that Otto moved, not ostentatiously, but with a gentle insistence, and scattering attentions as he went. Once abreast of the card-table, he placed himself opposite to Madame von Rosen, and, as soon as he had caught her eye, withdrew to the embrasure of a window. There she had speedily joined him.
“You did well to call me,” she said, a little wildly. “These cards will be my ruin.”
“Leave them,” said Otto.
“I!” she cried, and laughed; “they are my destiny. My only chance was to die of consumption; now I must die in a garret.”
“You are bitter to-night,” said Otto.
“I have been losing,” she replied. “You do not know what greed is.”
“I have come, then, in an evil hour,” said he.
“Ah, you wish a favour!” she cried, brightening beautifully.
“Madam,” said he, “I am about to found my party, and I come to you for a recruit.”