A brisk walk through the snow and gathering darkness revived him and he
turned back to the studio with a clearer brain. His old servant,
Heinrich, met him at the door.
"Monsieur, the gentleman has returned and is dressing," the old man
said, in an awe-struck whisper. "I think he is the devil," he added
vindictively.
Heinrich had been terrified when Millar, returning to the studio in
Karl's absence, had taken possession, with the utmost coolness, of
Karl's guest-chamber and proceeded to change to the evening clothes
which had been sent to him there from the tailor's. Unwilling to meet
the man again, Karl hurried into his own room and locked the door. He
did not emerge again until long after Millar had completed his dressing
and had left the studio.
Karl tried desperately to drive thoughts of Olga from his mind; but the
terrible flame of passion which had grown from the tiny, buried spark of
boy love that lurked in his heart, under the sinister suggestion of
Millar, tortured him. He could hardly keep himself from rushing off to
Olga's house, in advance of the ball, to beg her not to proceed with her
design of bringing him and Elsa together; to tell her that he loved her
and that in all the world there lived no other woman for him.
Desperately, at last, he remembered his promise to see Mimi, and he
hurried out and made his way afoot to the tattered little buildings in
which she lived, hoping there to find forgetfulness. But, go where he
would, the haunting black eyes, the cynical smile, that even, persistent
voice, the insidious suggestions of Millar, the devil, followed him and
would not be shaken off.
* * * * *
In a state of mind even more desperate than that of Karl, Olga went home
with Herman. Their journey was as silent as their carriage was silent.
Herman was absorbed in contemplation of the information Millar had
given him regarding business affairs in Russia, in which he was heavily
interested. Olga was torn by conflicting emotions. The man had roused in
her the dormant love for Karl which she believed buried forever. She
could not deny to herself now, as she had denied for six years, that she
loved him. She knew now that during those six years it had been to Karl,
not to Herman, that she had turned for sympathy, for understanding, and
the knowledge maddened her.
Deep in her heart Olga exalted duty before every other virtue, and the
duty of a loyal wife before every other duty. She could feel now the
crumbling away of all her principles. She had believed for six years
that she had given to Herman every bit of her love and loyalty, and now
she was forced to the self-confession that she had lived a lie, even to
herself. She loved Karl.
But, away from Millar's influence, she resolved that she would yet
battle with and overcome the terrible impulses he had aroused. She would
make the artist love the beautiful, accomplished girl whom she herself
had selected for his bride. She would make him happy; make them both
happy, even if it meant that she must crush out her own hopes of
happiness in doing so.
"That is a very remarkable man, that friend of Karl's," Herman said
after they had driven some time in silence.
"Yes; he is very disagreeable," Olga replied.
"Oh, I don't think so," Herman protested. "To me he seemed very
agreeable. Where does he come from? He seems to have been everywhere and
to know everybody."
"And everything," assented Olga wearily. "I cannot tell you anything
about him. Karl met him a year ago at Monte Carlo."
"I am glad you persuaded him to come to-night," Herman said. "He is
going to give me information that will be of great value to me."
Olga was on the point of telling Herman all about the terrible sermon
the stranger had preached to them; of his wicked insinuations and of her
terrible dread, but she checked herself. Herman seemed fatuously
delighted by Millar, and she could not bring herself to talk to him now.
They continued the ride in silence until home was reached.