"3.33."
"Three-quarters of an hour!" she cried. "But we will arrive in Vienna
at an impossible hour."
She looked alarmed.
At last, after what appeared an endless delay, but what was in reality
only another half-hour, an engine arrived, and both trains tied
together were drawn into the next station. There followed a lot of
manoeuvring; the train which had run into our's had first to be removed,
and then the two engines, of which only the wheels were still in a
possible state. The luggage van was replaced and the luggage repacked.
And, finally, at nearly six o'clock, we resumed our journey at a
breakneck speed.
The young lady seemed rather oppressed, probably by visions of
some more terrific accidents. Each time, when there was a switch,
the jolting caused by transferring the carriage from one line of
rails to another seemed to send a thrill of fear through her frame.
Nevertheless, she proved a very willing and agreeable talker. Perhaps
was she too nervous to keep silent, for I had to inform her of the
time every quarter of an hour. But she did not tell me why; whether
somebody was awaiting her, or whether there was some particular reason
for her to dread her late arrival. Nor did I learn anything about her.
She remained clad in mystery. After several hours' conversation I did
not know any more of her than when I had seen her first. On the other
hand, she knew all about me and, as a matter of fact, I suppose that
it was I who did most of the talking. I tried thus, by showing my
confidence, to win hers. But in vain.
At last we reached Vienna. We were full three hours late. As she had
told me about the difficulty of getting a cab, I asked her whether I
might not go and fetch her one.
"Yes! She would be pleased!"
So, having designated a certain pillar in the great hall, where she was
to wait for me with my bags, I went in search of a Jehu. (I do not know
whether in Vienna _Jehu_ would be an acceptable nickname, but never
mind.) It was not a very easy task, and I had plenty of time to prepare
myself for the three questions which I absolutely must ask her before
we parted: Whether, when, and where I should see her again. I knew that
in Vienna it was the fashion to kiss the hand of a lady at such a
moment. And I saw myself already bending over her hand and kissing it,
asking her the fateful questions.
But, when after ten minutes I came back, the fair Comtesse had gone. My
bags were standing lonely near the pillar and greeted me with a mocking
grin.