On leaving the hotel, Somerset’s first impulse was to get out of
sight of its windows, and his glance upward had perhaps not the tender
significance that Paula imagined, the last look impelled by any such
whiff of emotion having been the lingering one he bestowed upon her in
passing out of the room. Unluckily for the prospects of this attachment,
Paula’s conduct towards him now, as a result of misrepresentation,
had enough in common with her previous silence at Nice to make it not
unreasonable as a further development of that silence. Moreover, her
social position as a woman of wealth, always felt by Somerset as a
perceptible bar to that full and free eagerness with which he would fain
have approached her, rendered it impossible for him to return to the
charge, ascertain the reason of her coldness, and dispel it by an
explanation, without being suspected of mercenary objects. Continually
does it happen that a genial willingness to bottle up affronts is
set down to interested motives by those who do not know what generous
conduct means. Had she occupied the financial position of Miss De
Stancy he would readily have persisted further and, not improbably, have
cleared up the cloud.
Having no further interest in Carlsruhe, Somerset decided to leave by an
evening train. The intervening hour he spent in wandering into the thick
of the fair, where steam roundabouts, the proprietors of wax-work
shows, and fancy-stall keepers maintained a deafening din. The
animated environment was better than silence, for it fostered in him
an artificial indifference to the events that had just happened--an
indifference which, though he too well knew it was only destined to be
temporary, afforded a passive period wherein to store up strength that
should enable him to withstand the wear and tear of regrets which would
surely set in soon. It was the case with Somerset as with others of his
temperament, that he did not feel a blow of this sort immediately; and
what often seemed like stoicism after misfortune was only the neutral
numbness of transition from palpitating hope to assured wretchedness.
He walked round and round the fair till all the exhibitors knew him by
sight, and when the sun got low he turned into the Erbprinzen-Strasse,
now raked from end to end by ensaffroned rays of level light. Seeking
his hotel he dined there, and left by the evening train for Heidelberg.
Heidelberg with its romantic surroundings was not precisely the place
calculated to heal Somerset’s wounded heart. He had known the town of
yore, and his recollections of that period, when, unfettered in fancy,
he had transferred to his sketch-book the fine Renaissance details of
the Otto-Heinrichs-Bau came back with unpleasant force. He knew of some
carved cask-heads and other curious wood-work in the castle cellars,
copies of which, being unobtainable by photographs, he had intended to
make if all went well between Paula and himself. The zest for this was
now well-nigh over. But on awaking in the morning and looking up
the valley towards the castle, and at the dark green height of the
Konigsstuhl alongside, he felt that to become vanquished by a passion,
driven to suffer, fast, and pray in the dull pains and vapours of
despised love, was a contingency not to be welcomed too readily.
Thereupon he set himself to learn the sad science of renunciation, which
everybody has to learn in his degree--either rebelling throughout the
lesson, or, like Somerset, taking to it kindly by force of judgment.
A more obstinate pupil might have altogether escaped the lesson in the
present case by discovering its illegality.
Resolving to persevere in the heretofore satisfactory paths of art while
life and faculties were left, though every instinct must proclaim that
there would be no longer any collateral attraction in that pursuit, he
went along under the trees of the Anlage and reached the castle vaults,
in whose cool shades he spent the afternoon, working out his intentions
with fair result. When he had strolled back to his hotel in the evening
the time was approaching for the table-d’hote. Having seated himself
rather early, he spent the few minutes of waiting in looking over
his pocket-book, and putting a few finishing touches to the afternoon
performance whilst the objects were fresh in his memory. Thus occupied
he was but dimly conscious of the customary rustle of dresses and
pulling up of chairs by the crowd of other diners as they gathered
around him. Serving began, and he put away his book and prepared for the
meal. He had hardly done this when he became conscious that the person
on his left hand was not the typical cosmopolite with boundless hotel
knowledge and irrelevant experiences that he was accustomed to find next
him, but a face he recognized as that of a young man whom he had met
and talked to at Stancy Castle garden-party, whose name he had now
forgotten. This young fellow was conversing with somebody on his left
hand--no other personage than Paula herself. Next to Paula he beheld
De Stancy, and De Stancy’s sister beyond him. It was one of those
gratuitous encounters which only happen to discarded lovers who have
shown commendable stoicism under disappointment, as if on purpose to
reopen and aggravate their wounds.
It seemed as if the intervening traveller had met the other party by
accident there and then. In a minute he turned and recognized Somerset,
and by degrees the young men’s cursory remarks to each other developed
into a pretty regular conversation, interrupted only when he turned to
speak to Paula on his left hand.
‘Your architectural adviser travels in your party: how very convenient,’
said the young tourist to her. ‘Far pleasanter than having a medical
attendant in one’s train!’
Somerset, who had no distractions on the other side of him, could
hear every word of this. He glanced at Paula. She had not known of his
presence in the room till now. Their eyes met for a second, and she
bowed sedately. Somerset returned her bow, and her eyes were quickly
withdrawn with scarcely visible confusion.
‘Mr. Somerset is not travelling with us,’ she said. ‘We have met by
accident. Mr. Somerset came to me on business a little while ago.’
‘I must congratulate you on having put the castle into good hands,’
continued the enthusiastic young man.
‘I believe Mr. Somerset is quite competent,’ said Paula stiffly.
To include Somerset in the conversation the young man turned to him and
added: ‘You carry on your work at the castle con amore, no doubt?’
‘There is work I should like better,’ said Somerset.
‘Indeed?’
The frigidity of his manner seemed to set her at ease by dispersing all
fear of a scene; and alternate dialogues of this sort with the gentleman
in their midst were more or less continued by both Paula and Somerset
till they rose from table.
In the bustle of moving out the two latter for one moment stood side by
side.
‘Miss Power,’ said Somerset, in a low voice that was obscured by the
rustle, ‘you have nothing more to say to me?’
‘I think there is nothing more?’ said Paula, lifting her eyes with
longing reticence.
‘Then I take leave of you; and tender my best wishes that you may have a
pleasant time before you!.... I set out for England to-night.’
‘With a special photographer, no doubt?’
It was the first time that she had addressed Somerset with a meaning
distinctly bitter; and her remark, which had reference to the forged
photograph, fell of course without its intended effect.
‘No, Miss Power,’ said Somerset gravely. ‘But with a deeper sense of
woman’s thoughtless trifling than time will ever eradicate.’
‘Is not that a mistake?’ she asked in a voice that distinctly trembled.
‘A mistake? How?’
‘I mean, do you not forget many things?’ (throwing on him a troubled
glance). ‘A woman may feel herself justified in her conduct, although it
admits of no explanation.’
‘I don’t contest the point for a moment.... Goodbye.’
‘Good-bye.’
They parted amid the flowering shrubs and caged birds in the hall,
and he saw her no more. De Stancy came up, and spoke a few commonplace
words, his sister having gone out, either without perceiving Somerset,
or with intention to avoid him.
That night, as he had said, he was on his way to England.