* * * * *
Three days ago, I was racking my brains for the solution of a problem,
and, as I see from what I wrote, I was somewhat outside myself. In the
interval things have taken an amazing turn. I am still bewildered--but
I must put it all down from the beginning.
The Colonel left as she said he would, and I went round to lunch with
her.
We had a delightful _tête-à-tête_, and after lunch she played the
piano. I was feeling in splendid voice and she accompanied me to
perfection in Tchaikowsky's "To the Forest," always a favourite of
mine. As the last chords died away, Zoe jumped up from the piano and,
with eyes dancing with excitement, placed her hands on my shoulders and
exclaimed:
"Karl! I have an idea! I shall make a prisoner of you for two or three
days."
I laughed heartily and almost told her that she had already made me a
prisoner for life, only I can never get those sort of remarks out quick
enough.
But when she said, "No! I am not joking, I mean it," I felt there was
more meaning in her sentence than I had at first thought. I begged to
be enlightened, and she then unfolded her scheme.
She told me for the first time, that in a forest not far from Bruges
she had a little summer-house, to which she used to retreat for
week-ends in the hot weather when the Colonel was away. He knew nothing
of this country house (she was very insistent on that point), so I
imagined she paid for it out of her dress allowance or in some other
way. The idea that had just struck her was that she had a sudden fancy
to go and spend two days there, and I was to go with her.
I was ready to go to Africa with her if my leave permitted, and it so
happened that I was due for four days' overseas leave (limited to
Belgian territory) so that this fitted in very well, and I told her so.
She was delighted, then, with one of those quick intuitions which women
are so clever at, she read the half-formed thought in my mind, and
said: "You mustn't think it's not going to be conventional; old Babette
will be with us to chaperon me." Old Babette is an aged female whom she
calls her maid. I think she is jealous of me.
I agreed at once that of course I quite understood it was to be highly
conventional, etc., though I smiled to myself as I visualized my
mother's shocked face and uplifted hands had she heard my Zoe's ideas
on the conventions.
I was trying to fathom what was at the bottom of it all when she
remarked: "Of course, as my prisoner you will have to obey all my
orders."