He slept for some hours without waking. Then he began to dream that he
was once more fighting a duel, that the antagonist standing facing him
was Herr Klüber, and on a fir-tree was sitting a parrot, and this
parrot was Pantaleone, and he kept tapping with his beak: one, one,
one!
“One … one … one!” he heard the tapping too distinctly; he opened his
eyes, raised his head … some one was knocking at his door.
“Come in!” called Sanin.
The waiter came in and answered that a lady very particularly wished to
see him.
“Gemma!” flashed into his head … but the lady turned out to be her
mother, Frau Lenore.
Directly she came in, she dropped at once into a chair and began to
cry.
“What is the matter, my dear, good Madame Roselli?” began Sanin,
sitting beside her and softly touching her hand. “What has happened?
calm yourself, I entreat you.”
“Ah, Herr Dimitri, I am very … very miserable!”
“You are miserable?”
“Ah, very! Could I have foreseen such a thing? All of a sudden, like
thunder from a clear sky …”
She caught her breath.
“But what is it? Explain! Would you like a glass of water?”
“No, thank you.” Frau Lenore wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and
began to cry with renewed energy. “I know all, you see! All!”
“All? that is to say?”
“Everything that took place to-day! And the cause … I know that too!
You acted like an honourable man; but what an unfortunate combination
of circumstances! I was quite right in not liking that excursion to
Soden … quite right!” (Frau Lenore had said nothing of the sort on the
day of the excursion, but she was convinced now that she had foreseen
“all” even then.) “I have come to you as to an honourable man, as to a
friend, though I only saw you for the first time five days ago…. But
you know I am a widow, a lonely woman…. My daughter …”
Tears choked Frau Lenore’s voice. Sanin did not know what to think.
“Your daughter?” he repeated.
“My daughter, Gemma,” broke almost with a groan from Frau Lenore,
behind the tear-soaked handkerchief, “informed me to-day that she would
not marry Herr Klüber, and that I must refuse him!”
Sanin positively started back a little; he had not expected that.
“I won’t say anything now,” Frau Lenore went on, “of the disgrace of
it, of its being something unheard of in the world for a girl to jilt
her betrothed; but you see it’s ruin for us, Herr Dimitri!” Frau Lenore
slowly and carefully twisted up her handkerchief in a tiny, tiny little
ball, as though she would enclose all her grief within it. “We can’t go
on living on the takings of our shop, Herr Dimitri! and Herr Klüber is
very rich, and will be richer still. And what is he to be refused for?
Because he did not defend his betrothed? Allowing that was not very
handsome on his part, still, he’s a civilian, has not had a university
education, and as a solid business man, it was for him to look with
contempt on the frivolous prank of some unknown little officer. And
what sort of insult was it, after all, Herr Dimitri?”
“Excuse me, Frau Lenore, you seem to be blaming me.”
“I am not blaming you in the least, not in the least! You’re quite
another matter; you are, like all Russians, a military man …”
“Excuse me, I’m not at all …”
“You’re a foreigner, a visitor, and I’m grateful to you,” Frau Lenore
went on, not heeding Sanin. She sighed, waved her hands, unwound her
handkerchief again, and blew her nose. Simply from the way in which her
distress expressed itself, it could be seen that she had not been born
under a northern sky.
“And how is Herr Klüber to look after his shop, if he is to fight with
his customers? It’s utterly inconsistent! And now I am to send him
away! But what are we going to live on? At one time we were the only
people that made angel cakes, and nougat of pistachio nuts, and we had
plenty of customers; but now all the shops make angel cakes! Only
consider; even without this, they’ll talk in the town about your duel …
it’s impossible to keep it secret. And all of a sudden, the marriage
broken off! It will be a scandal, a scandal! Gemma is a splendid girl,
she loves me; but she’s an obstinate republican, she doesn’t care for
the opinion of others. You’re the only person that can persuade her!”
Sanin was more amazed than ever. “I, Frau Lenore?”
“Yes, you alone … you alone. That’s why I have come to you; I could not
think of anything else to do! You are so clever, so good! You have
fought in her defence. She will trust you! She is bound to trust
you—why, you have risked your life on her account! You will make her
understand, for I can do nothing more; you make her understand that she
will bring ruin on herself and all of us. You saved my son—save my
daughter too! God Himself sent you here … I am ready on my knees to
beseech you….” And Frau Lenore half rose from her seat as though about
to fall at Sanin’s feet…. He restrained her.
“Frau Lenore! For mercy’s sake! What are you doing?”
She clutched his hand impulsively. “You promise …”
“Frau Lenore, think a moment; what right have I …”
“You promise? You don’t want me to die here at once before your eyes?”
Sanin was utterly nonplussed. It was the first time in his life he had
had to deal with any one of ardent Italian blood.
“I will do whatever you like,” he cried. “I will talk to Fräulein
Gemma….”
Frau Lenore uttered a cry of delight.
“Only I really can’t say what result will come of it …”
“Ah, don’t go back, don’t go back from your words!” cried Frau Lenore
in an imploring voice; “you have already consented! The result is
certain to be excellent. Any way, _I_ can do nothing more! She won’t
listen to _me_!”
“Has she so positively stated her disinclination to marry Herr Klüber?”
Sanin inquired after a short silence.
“As if she’d cut the knot with a knife! She’s her father all over,
Giovanni Battista! Wilful girl!”
“Wilful? Is she!” … Sanin said slowly.
“Yes … yes … but she’s an angel too. She will mind you. Are you coming
soon? Oh, my dear Russian friend!” Frau Lenore rose impulsively from
her chair, and as impulsively clasped the head of Sanin, who was
sitting opposite her. “Accept a mother’s blessing—and give me some
water!”
Sanin brought Signora Roselli a glass of water, gave her his word of
honour that he would come directly, escorted her down the stairs to the
street, and when he was back in his own room, positively threw up his
arms and opened his eyes wide in his amazement.
“Well,” he thought, “well, _now_ life is going round in a whirl! And
it’s whirling so that I’m giddy.” He did not attempt to look within, to
realise what was going on in himself: it was all uproar and confusion,
and that was all he knew! What a day it had been! His lips murmured
unconsciously: “Wilful … her mother says … and I have got to advise her
… her! And advise her what?”
Sanin, really, was giddy, and above all this whirl of shifting
sensations and impressions and unfinished thoughts, there floated
continually the image of Gemma, the image so ineffaceably impressed on
his memory on that hot night, quivering with electricity, in that dark
window, in the light of the swarming stars!