He congratulated himself on his unexplainable aggressiveness which had impelled him to offend Martinez. He, who, in the last few days had repented of that mad affair! What had weighed upon him like remorse, was perhaps the most sensible and opportune act of his life. Alicia, seeing that, mad with jealousy, he was doing something which many people considered absurd, fighting for her sake, doubtless felt flattered in her vanity, and was looking upon him now with new interest.
"Oh, these women!" thought Lubimoff. "You've got to know them. They have an instinctive admiration for the strong. There is nothing like an act of brutality at the right moment to conquer them. They take a certain joy in yielding to a man who impresses them by violence."
This had been his first happy moment in many, many days. Once more he was the Prince Lubimoff who had always had his way, triumphing on obstacles, sometimes with his money, but more often with his imperious pride.
Satisfied with his rough strength, he felt the need of making himself handsome before keeping the engagement. He was thinking of the males of the animal kingdom, who in addition to teeth, claws, and spurs, have combs, manes, and plumage to fall back on when it comes to inspire a sort of mystic slavish admiration in the females. It was the same among human beings. Education, laws, and traditions do nothing but disguise the barbaric foundations of human nature.
His thoughts were interrupted by something which worried him. At what time should he appear at the place indicated. It occurred to him, that as no hour was mentioned, it must be the same as that of the previous meeting at the door of St. Charles. But he finally was convinced that the Professor had forgotten something, and his uneasiness made him keep the engagement much earlier.
He spent more than three hours waiting anxiously, wandering about the streets in the neighborhood of the church, standing motionless at the corners, and changing from one place to another on noticing the curiosity of the passersby. He entered St. Charles several times, and was always greeted by the same sight: the multi-colored stained glass windows growing paler and paler, as the daylight waned, the clusters of flags, the altar pieces breaking the shadow with the dull splendor of their gold background, and women kneeling and motionless; women who seemed the same as on the other occasion, as though weeks had been minutes.
With the superstitious feeling of those who wait, he said to himself that Alicia surely would not appear until nightfall, and the day seemed endless to him.
As night came on he began to doubt.
"She won't come. She must have repented."
He was standing on the corner of a curved and sloping street adjoining the church. From there he could observe the steps leading to the little square with the sunken boulevard. No one climbed them; all the carriages passed without stopping.