Beate looked at the gambler with seductive glances. He put his arms round her supple form, which only resisted feebly, pressed a kiss upon her lips, but then wrenched himself away, pushed her from him, and cried, as he sprang up--
"Corpo di bacco, I know you, diavola! That is a worn-out game, and I know, too, how the cards are shuffled! You are not indisposed to be the victim of friendship. Aha, that is the cause of this sudden, pretended, fervent love. But where are the witnesses--the dumb walls, the lamps burning down? And, if there were witnesses, they would only be of use so far as separate maintenance is concerned, with which the Signora is not supplied. You have miscalculated, my child! To-day is buried from the world, and to-morrow I shall not know you again."
Beate stood drawn up erectly, the open dagger in her hand.
"You misunderstand me, Signor Baluzzi! Our business is at an end!"
At that moment Kätchen's head appeared in the half-open doorway.
"You called me, Signor?"
"Listener," cried Baluzzi, enraged, "this eavesdropping in my own house! Do not let me catch you a second time. Open the garden gate for the Signora; wait below with the key!"
Kätchen disappeared.
"I require money; I do not yet know how much. I will first learn the result of my business. You are a cunning mediatrix, little Beate, but neither your paws nor your claws have power over me; but if anything be in the air warn her not to venture upon too much, else she may have a narrow escape."
Below Kätchen was whistling upon the key of the gate. She soon conducted Beate, who had drawn the hood over her head, through the garden walks.