Buschmann spoke of "Norma," of the art treasures of Naples and Florence, he lingered fondly over plastic pictures which he certainly set forth in an æsthetic light; at the same time, however, he let a bold word fall occasionally, taking greater intimacy for granted.
Then the bell rang again! Giulia started. This time her expectations had not deceived her, it was Herr von Blanden's card which Beate handed to her. How her heart beat! she pressed her hand upon it and rested the other upon the table to keep herself steady. How painful to be obliged to receive him just now; she wished the officer far away who had drawn so defiantly close to her, and even modest Herr Böller, who cast such mournful glances at her, and ever again filled the basket, which he had received,[[1]] with fresh flowers expressive of his homage; and yet, perhaps, she should be less embarrassed if she were not alone when she greeted him for the first time. She signed to her friend, and soon after Blanden entered the room.
She went to meet him, and offered her hand to him; but she trembled in so doing, and a burning colour suffused her cheeks.
"I am rejoiced," said he, after having been introduced to the other gentlemen, "to be able here in the cold north to renew a brief acquaintance begun in Italy."
Blanden spoke with calmness and ease, and sought by these tactics to mask Giulia's agitation, but Buschmann, who had as good an eye for a countenance as he had for reconnoissance, had long since perceived that no indifferent meeting was now taking place. His jealousy had immediately been roused; he decided at once to reconnoitre the ground more closely, and ventured to the front with one question after another as to the time and place of that meeting, but if he counted upon evasive replies, he had been mistaken. Blanden took it upon himself to speak, and answered so clearly and decidedly that the officer withdrew his vedettes.
Blanden felt himself once more entirely under the spell of that beautiful woman of the south; not myrtles and laurels, not the mirror of the lake with the reflection of the lofty Alpine peaks, not the aromatic breath of orange flowers acted now intoxicatingly upon his senses, and yet it was the self-same charm that held him in its spell, at the contemplation of those harmonious features and of that noble form. But she appeared distant to him, majestically distant, and he could hardly believe that he had once folded her in his arms.
Beneath indifferent conversation both concealed the emotions and thoughts that stirred them inwardly. Vainly Blanden hoped that the first visitors would withdraw and grant him an undisturbed interview. Lieutenant Buschmann stood bravely to his post, and did not give the slightest indication of retiring from the field; he even at times assumed a familiar tone towards the singer, which she repelled with displeasure.
Blanden's conversation seemed to glide unconcernedly above all this by-play, which in reality he watched closely; the other guests' obduracy obliged him to be the first to take leave. Giulia's looks, however, assured him of her unchanged affection; she requested him to repeat his visit very soon.
"My Beatrice," said Buschmann, who thought much of his knowledge of Dante's comedy, "my guide through Paradise appears to turn completely away from me! Who then is this stranger who crosses our mutual path?"
"I have already mentioned his name," said Giulia coldly, "but here is his card!"