He was just crossing the threshold when a well-known voice struck his
ear, proceeding from the corner where the little wine cask lay, covered
up by green oleander bushes. "_Buenas tardes, Senor Don Felix!_ You
come rather late, but not too late to prevent you from dancing yourself
tired. I have the honor to introduce you to one of my countrywomen, a
genuine Gitana. Senorita ----."
But Felix had long ceased to hear what he said. Before him
stood--Irene.
She looked marvelously charming as she stood there, her picturesque
shawls and draperies thrown loosely about her, her hair ornamented with
a heavy string of corals and gold coins, large silver rings in her
ears, and her eyebrows slightly darkened and joined together over her
proud little nose by a delicate line! And how her cheeks glowed at this
sudden meeting with him whom, after all, she had expected, and for
whose sake she had thus adorned herself; how she cast down her
eyes--and breathed hard--and tried to smile, and yet had enough to do
to keep back the tears that were welling up behind her eyelashes!
For a minute or two Schnetz stood gazing with delight at this most
charming of all pantomimes. Then he came to the assistance of the
embarrassed couple.
"You are not altogether unacquainted with each other," said he, in his
driest manner. "Senorita Gitana has to thank this noble Andalusian for
saving her life from the tempestuous waves of the lake of Starnberg. He
will now steer her quite as safely through the dangers of a waltz,
better, most certainly, than your humble servant, whose strut might
possibly strike her as rather too Spanish. So at it, youngster! pluck
up courage and lead the Gitanilla to the dance. After that she will
show you how to read your future from your hand."
Felix recovered himself by a violent effort. "Shall we dance?"
stammered he, in a scarcely audible voice, as he stepped up to Irene.
She nodded assent, and the glow on her face burned hotter, but she
spoke not a word, and did not even raise her eyes. She seemed to him so
utterly transformed that, even now, when he felt her hand resting on
his arm, and saw her gliding along at his side, he was almost inclined
to doubt again whether it could really be she. He had never seen her so
yielding, so tremblingly timid, so incapable of uttering a word; and
now when he held her close and swung her in the dance, he felt more
than once as if he were whirling about in one of those strangely happy
dreams that change, in some curious way, the most familiar features,
and lead us only into the arms of the unattainable.
Yet, all the while he felt so wonderfully happy that he was content to
leave everything just as it was, and strove only to clasp this miracle
as closely as possible to his breast, and to enjoy the full blessedness
of this meeting as long as the dream would last. Nor did she try to
resist; indeed, she herself felt as if it were a necessity for her
to press her head and glowing face close to his shoulder, and, with
half-closed eyes, to submit herself absolutely to his guidance. He
could not see her face, for she held her head bent down; but his eyes
rested on her soft, brown hair, and his arm, clasped about her waist,
could feel how her heart was beating. No word came from the lips of
either of these two happy beings; they did not even press one another's
hands in silent sympathy, for the simple reason that both felt that
there was nothing special for them to communicate--two souls had merely
become one again. Nor did they take heed of those about them, who gazed
with earnest interest upon this noble couple the moment they entered
the room--the strangers with simple pleasure, or perhaps here and there
with envy, the initiated with heart-felt joy at the triumphant success
of their work.
For them there was no outside world at this moment, no friends or
strangers. Besides the beating of their own hearts they felt nothing
but the music; and it seemed to them a heavenly kindness on the part of
fortune, that allowed them to dance instead of forcing them to talk
with one another; that the wild and merry tones of the instruments gave
them wings that lifted them above the earth, the one clasped as tightly
to the other as only the dance could have made permissible before so
many witnesses.
Neither of them felt the slightest fatigue, or thought of stopping to
rest. Indeed, when the music finally came to an end, it seemed to them
as if they had just begun; and they stood in the middle of the hall,
startled, and almost painfully still, clasped in one another's embrace
as they had been in the waltz. His arm reluctantly released her figure,
but he could not bring himself to give up her little slender hand.
However, this did not appear to attract any attention, since the other
couples also were very tender with one another, and had quite enough to
do in looking after their own affairs.
None of their intimate friends crossed their path. So the _majo_
succeeded in leading his gypsy unchallenged into the adjoining room,
from which even Schnetz had taken care to steal away.
They walked arm-in-arm, vigorously fanning themselves, down the
flower-decked side of the hall, past the little tables, and stood
suddenly, before they suspected it, before the buffet, which had been
put up at the other end, and before which a number of waiter-girls were
selling cold viands, cake, ice, and various kinds of drinks.
"Will you drink something?" he said.
It was the first word he had addressed to her. It struck him as being
very stupid that he had nothing more important to say to her after such
a long silence. But she did not appear to think it strange at all.
She shook her head quite seriously, drew off her glove, and took a
large orange from one of the plates. "That is better after dancing,"
she said, in a low voice. "Come, let us eat it together."
They seated themselves at one of the small tables, and she drew off the
other glove and began to peel and divide the beautiful fruit with her
white little fingers. But all the while she never looked at him.
"Irene!" he whispered--"is it really possible? You are here--I--we are
so unexpectedly brought together again."
"Not unexpectedly," replied she, in a still lower tone; "I knew that
you would come--and that is the only reason why I came myself. Do you
believe I cared anything for the dancing and the masks? Feeling as I
did--"
Her voice failed her. The tears rose to her eyes. He bent down close to
her, and pressed his lips to the little hands that were so busily at
work.
She gave a slight start. "Oh! don't, please!" she whispered,
pleadingly. "Not here, they can see us. O Felix! is it really true? You
are going away--away forever?"
He did not answer for a moment, but sat absorbed in the happiness of
being so near her, of listening to her voice, of feeling her warm
breath as it came from her sweet lips. A reckless joy took possession
of his heart, an exhilarating determination to face boldly whatever
fate might have in store for him.
"Why talk of such sad things?" said he at length--for she still kept
her anxious gaze fixed upon him, and seemed unable to understand the
joy that lit up his face--"there will be time enough for that later on,
when the ball is over and the intoxication gone, and the harsh daylight
shines once more upon our lives. This is my first happy evening for
many months; I thank you for giving it to me. I always knew that you
loved me, and if I were only a different man from what I unfortunately
am--"
"O Felix!" she pleaded, looking him full in the face. "You grieve me;
it is not kind of you to shame me so, for I suffered so much before I
could bring myself to admit my fault and see myself as you must have
seen me for a long time past. O Felix! that you could love me in spite
of all--that you could grieve for me--but wait! I have a thousand
things to tell you--I must tell you them to-night--at once--but not
here among all these merry people--and look there, I see some of your
friends coming--only tell me how and where--"
He had no time to answer, for at this moment Jansen approached, with
Julie hanging on his arm, both with faces that made no attempt to
conceal the part that they had taken in bringing about this great
happiness. They refrained, however, from making any remarks that might
embarrass the young couple, and simply invited them to be their
_vis-a-vis_ in a quadrille that was just going to begin. A pressure of
the hand from Jansen was all that passed between the two friends in
regard to the event. But Jansen and Julie helped to eat the oranges
that were divided into sections and passed about by Irene; then,
separating into couples again, they entered the hall, where the other
couples had already taken their places.
However, they were by no means sorry to be left alone, and they got up
a quadrille of their own in one of the corners near the windows, with
Schnetz and Angelica and the Capuchin and the headless martyr for side
couples.
And indeed these eight figures were well calculated to afford an
inexhaustible fund of amusement for one another, and the novelty of the
contrast between the two beautiful and the two grotesque couples
attracted around them all those outsiders who, for one reason or
another, had not taken part in the dance. Nothing could have been finer
or more pleasing than when this blonde, blooming Venetian figure,
in the fullness of its ripe beauty, advanced to meet this slim,
foreign-looking, dazzling gypsy, and the hands of the two charming
creatures met, and their eyes beamed upon one another. On the other
hand, it was one of the funniest and most picturesque sights imaginable
when gaunt Alba bore down with his stiff, spidery walk upon the holy
martyr, while the Capuchin paid homage to the Suabian maiden in all
kinds of cringing and fawning attitudes. The latter seemed to be the
happiest one in the whole company at the success of the plan,
concerning which Schnetz had given her a hint some time before. She was
perpetually making mistakes in the different figures of the quadrille,
for she was always studying either the Spanish or the Venetian girl,
and was, moreover, obliged to communicate to her partner her
observations in regard to their particular fine points. She afterward
found a still more attentive listener in Rossel, who had seated himself
near by in the character of a spectator, holding Homo between his
knees, and now and then sweeping with a careless hand the strings of
the guitar that the faithful old animal still bore upon his back.
When the dance ended, Julie, whose heart was glowing with gladness and
love, could not refrain from taking Irene to her arms and imprinting on
her lips the congratulation she did not dare to put in words. Irene
understood her, and blushed; but she returned the embrace with hearty
good-will, and nodded also to Angelica as if she were an old friend.
Then she took Felix's arm, and allowed him to escort her to the
supper-room.
"Shall we take a seat at the little table again?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"I must be still more alone with you," he said. "Only be brave and
follow me. The air here begins to be oppressive."
"Where are you going to?"
"Outside. Not a breath of wind is stirring, and it is the most
beautiful spring-like weather. And you are not heated at all! I will
wrap you up in my cloak. Take my word for it, we will not even catch a
cold in the head."
"Go out into the dark garden?" She involuntarily slackened her step.
"What will they think of us?"
"That we love one another, my darling, and want to be alone. Besides,
it will occur to very few of these good people to miss us, or to make
any remarks about the subject. And since you have once ventured into
this bad society, and no one knows what may happen to-morrow, and
whether there will still be time then--"
"You are right," she interrupted hastily. "It was merely the last sign
of the stupid old habit. Come; I think myself I should not be alive
to-morrow if the night passed without my having told you everything."
He drew her close to his side, and they left the hall together. The
angel with the flaming sword had fallen asleep over his mug of beer;
but as Felix had been the last to arrive, he easily found his hat and
cloak in the dressing-room without Fridolin's assistance. He carefully
wrapped a large woolen shawl, which he recognized as belonging to
Angelica, about the head and shoulders of his sweetheart, and then
threw his own cloak over the whole, so that she would have been well
protected even for a colder night.
"But don't cover up your face entirely; I must have a chance to find
your lips!" he whispered, and immediately kissed her as if to put her
to the test. But she held him tight, and with a passionate submission,
of which he had hardly believed her capable, returned his kiss and held
up her glowing face to his, submitting to his stormy caresses in happy
confusion, and returning them anew.
Not until she was startled by a noise did she ask him in a pleading
voice to desist. Then he put his arm about her and went out with her
into the mild winter's night, covered peacefully in its snowy mantle.
No star looked down from heaven, but it seemed to these two happy
beings, wandering all alone among the trees, as if the world about them
were in flames, and they were walking through it unscathed, for in
their hearts there raged a hotter fire.