I SUPPOSE it is needless to say that I passed a sleepless night, haunted
till morning by Veronika’s face and voice; that I tossed endlessly
from pillow to pillow, going over in memory every circumstance from our
meeting to our parting; that I built a hundred wondrous castles in the
air and that Veronika presided as chatelaine in each. I thought I should
boil over with rage when I dwelt upon the enforced drudgery of her life.
I could hardly contain myself for sheer joy when I made bold to say,
“Why, it is not impossible that some day she may love you—not
impossible that some day she may consent to become your wife.” One
doubt, the inevitable one, harassed me: Had I a clear field? Was there
perchance another suitor there before me? Perhaps her affections were
already spoken. Still, on the whole, probably not. For, where had he
kept himself during the evening? Surely, if he had existed at all, he
would have been at her side. Yet on the other hand she was so beautiful,
it could scarcely be believed that she had attained the age of
one-and-twenty without taking some heart captive. And that sad,
mysterious expression in her eyes—how had it come about except through
love?—Thus between despair and hope I swung, pendulum-like, all night.
Dawn filtered through the window. “Thursday!” I muttered. “Seven
days still to be dragged through—but then!”—Imagination
faltered at the prospect. I went about my usual business in a sort of
intoxication. My footstep had acquired an unwonted briskness. Every five
minutes my heart jumped into my throat and lost a beat. But my pupils
suffered.
I was more inclined to absent-mindedness than ever. At dusk I revisited
the terrace despite the rain that fell in torrents, and walked by her
house and lived through the whole happy episode again.
Be assured I was punctual when at last Wednesday came. I remember, as I
mounted the staircase that led to their abode, an absurd fear beset me.
What if they had moved away?
What if I should not find her after this interminable week of waiting?
My hand shook as I pulled the bell-knob. I was nerving myself for the
worst in the interval that elapsed before the door was opened.—The
door was opened by Veronika herself!
“Ah, good-evening. We were expecting you,” she said.