"My dear Lanzberg!" Mrs. Harfink called the Baron as often as possible
"her dear Lanzberg," in order to show him that she already included him
in her family--"a man who can oppose to his fault a counter-balance
such as your whole subsequent life is, has not only expiated his fault
but he has obliterated it." Madame Harfink very often spoke of her
husband's views, and liked to allow him to participate before the world
in her wealth of thought. If she herself could no longer cherish any
illusions about him, she nevertheless carefully concealed his nullity
from friends as well as she could in a sacred obscurity.
"That may all be true," cried Felix, almost violently, "but
nevertheless I cannot expect this philosophical consideration from a
young girl. Oh, my dear madam, do you not deceive yourself?"
From without sounded the gay click of high heels. Linda had returned
sooner than her mamma had expected. The blood rushed to her face, she
trembled so with excitement that, thanks to her cameos, she rattled
like a rickety weather-vane in a storm. "Linda pardons you everything,"
cried she, hastily. "Linda loves you, she only begs you one thing, that
you will never speak to her of your past. That would be too painful for
her!"
The door opened. Linda entered, her hair in charming disorder, and her
large straw hat carelessly pushed back from her forehead. When she
perceived Felix she started slightly and joyously, then she rested her
large eyes, radiant with happiness, upon him.
"_A tantot_, you dear people," cried Mrs. Harfink, and, gracefully
waving her hand, this courageous and philanthropic liar left the room.
For a few seconds there was utter silence. Linda gazed in astonishment
at Felix, who stood there deathly pale and motionless, his hand resting
on the corner of the table. That the charm of her person so confused
him flattered her, it seemed to her interesting and romantic to cause
such deep heart wounds, still his manner remained enigmatical to her.
She tapped her foot in pretty impatience and coughed slightly.
Then he looked up, his eyes full of pleading tenderness and dread.
"Linda, will you really consecrate your young, blooming life to
me?--me--a broken man who----" He paused.
The situation became more dramatic, and pleased her better and better.
She came close up to him.
"If you ever permit yourself, in the presence of your betrothed, to
remember your past, and look so sad, I will run away, do you hear, and
will never know anything more of you." Her voice sounded so gentle, so
sweet, her warm little hand lay so coaxingly and confidingly on his
arm.
"Poor Felix!" murmured she, looking up at him tenderly. He closed his
eyes, blinded with tears and happiness, then he took her violently in
his arms, and kissed her. Her hat slipped from her head and fell to the
floor. She laughed at it very charmingly. He released her in order to
look at her better. He was happy--he had forgotten. He drew a ring from
his finger. "It was my mother's engagement ring," he whispered, and
placed it on her finger. Then it proved that the ring was almost too
small for her. "What slender fingers you must have!" cried she, and
gazed with pride at his slender, aristocratic hand.
Then there was a knock at the door. "Ah!" cried Linda, with a
displeasure which her _fiance_ found bewitching.
Eugene von Rhoeden entered, a bouquet of white flowers in his hand.
"Gardenias, Lin! Gardenias!" he cried, triumphantly. "What do you say
to this progress of Marienbad civilization? Ah, Baron--excuse me--I
really had not----" He glances from one to the other, sees the diamond
ring sparkling on Linda's hand. "What a magnificent ring you have,
Lin!"
"A present," replies Linda, with a pretty gesture toward Felix. "May
one accept gardenias from a relative?" she asks him, coaxingly--and
takes one from the bouquet to place in his buttonhole.
"Ah!" cries Eugene, suddenly changing an acid expression into a polite
smile. "May I congratulate you, or will my congratulations not be
received?"
Felix gives him his hand with emotion. "Congratulate me, congratulate
me," he murmurs.
"I do not know which of you is more to be congratulated," says Eugene,
with tact and feeling.
In the adjoining room is heard a selection from the Huguenots, which
breaks off in the middle, then a great, terrible howl, whereupon the
improvised Rarol, red as his cravat, bursts in and cries, "Did you
hear, Linda? That was C."
"Unfortunately," says she, laughing.
Raimund starts back. As he notices guests, he cries, "I will not
disturb----" and vanishes.
"And I also will not disturb you," says Rhoeden, with indescribably
loving accent. "Adieu!" and kissing Linda's hand, whereupon he says to
Felix, "Your betrothed, my cousin," he disappears.