On his way home from the visit with the Princess a flitting thought
disturbed him. Yes, the fates did combine against him. Why was he always
falling in love with stupid women? If only he had a life-companion like
the Princess! He needed some one to counsel him, to guide him.
Presently he was passing the jewelry shop where Marguerite had seen
those coveted earrings. He visualized her with those earrings. He could
see a hundred eyes gazing at her as she entered the _Café des
Ambassadeurs_ on his arm, with her beautiful flushed cheeks, vivacious
black eyes, and her exquisite little figure. She was beautiful—that
child! The next moment he was in the shop, before the jewelry counter,
holding the earrings on the palm of his hand, turning them this way and
that. Would the gentleman behind the counter lay them aside for a week?
He was sure he would have the money by that time. Yes, the gentleman
behind the counter was very affable and accommodating. “You see,
_monsieur_, I am putting them aside and will hold them for you until a
week from tomorrow—thank you, _monsieur_.”
Albert sped home exultantly. He was optimistic. He did not see clearly
how such a miracle could happen, how the money for the earrings would
come to him—_a thousand francs_!—but he had hopes. He was glad he had
talked with Princess Pampini. He would follow her advice and instead of
protesting just request the German government to reconsider the decree
against him; and then his publisher would advance him the five thousand
francs—three thousand, at least.
He ran up the three flights of stairs to his apartment with boyish glee
and, embracing Marguerite, whispered in her sweet little ear that he had
a great surprise in store for her. No; he could not tell her what it
was, but she must wait patiently a week, and tonight they would dine at
the _Café des Ambassadeurs_. He would order the same _menu_ they had
been served a week ago.
“Wasn’t that a fine meal, hein? A feast to be eaten on one’s knees!”
Albert’s eyes glowed with ecstasy as he recalled that dinner.
“You are the most wonderful lover in the world, my Albert,” Marguerite
threw her round warm arms around his neck and pressed him to her breast.
Presently he was seated at his desk writing his address to the _High
Diet_. He was checking his propensity to be bitter, cynical, satirical.
He repeated the words under his breath as he put them on paper, thinking
of Princess Pampini’s counsel.
When he had finished his long letter he felt as if a great burden had
been lifted. He read, and translated it, to Marguerite, who, with arms
folded and eyes staring blankly in front of her, listened attentively
but without hearing a word of it. She was wondering what surprise Albert
had in store for her next week.