The drama shifted to Geneva, where heroine preceded hero by a few
hours, charged to be silent till her parents had personally
experienced Lassalle's fascinations. He had scarcely taken possession
of his room in the Pension Bovet when a maidservant brought in a
letter from Helene, and ere he had time to do more than break the
envelope, Helene herself burst in.
"Take me away, take me away," she cried hysterically.
He flew to support her.
"What has happened?"
"I cannot bear it. I cannot fight them. Save me, my king, my master.
Let us fly across the frontier--to Paris." She clung to him wildly.
Sternness gathered on his brow.
"Then you have disobeyed me!" he said. "Why?"
"I have written you," she sobbed.
He laid her gently on the bed, and ran his eye through the long,
hysteric letter.
Unhappy coincidence! At Helene's arrival, her whole family had met her
joyously at the railway station, overbrimming with the happy news that
her little sister, Marguerite, had just been proposed to by Count
Kayserling.
Helene had thought this a heaven-sent opportunity of breaking her own
happiness to her radiant mother, foolishly forgetting that the Count
Kayserling would be the last man in the world to endure a Jew and a
demagogue as a brother-in-law. Terrible scenes had followed--the
mother's tears, the father's thunders, the general family wail and
supplication, sisters trembling for their prospects, brothers
anticipating the sneers of club-land. What! exchange Prince Janko for
a thief!
Cross-examined by Lassalle, Helene admitted her mother was not so
furious as her father, and had even, weeping on her bosom, promised to
try and smooth the Baron down. But she knew that was impossible--her
father considered nothing but his egoistic plans. And so, when the
dinner-bell was sounding, informed with a mad courage by the thought
of her hero's proximity, she had flown to him.
Lassalle felt that the test-moment of his life had come, and the man
of action must rise to it. He scribbled three telegrams--one to his
mother, one to his sister, Frau Friedland, and one to the Countess,
asking all to come at once.
"You must have a chaperon," he interjected. "And till one of the three
arrives, who is there here?"
She sobbed out the address of Madame Rognon. Lassalle opened the door
to hand over the telegrams, and saw the woman who had brought Helene's
letter lingering uneasily, and he had the unhappiest yet not least
characteristic inspiration of his life. "These to the telegraph
office," he said aloud, and in a whisper: "Tell the Baroness von
Dönniges that we shall be at Madame Rognon's."
For, with lightning rapidity, his brain had worked out a subtle piece
of heroic comedy. He would restore Helene to her mother, he would play
the grand seigneur, the spotless Bayard, he, the Jew, the thief, the
demagogue, the Don Juan; his chivalry would shame this little
diplomatist. In no case could they refuse him the girl, she was too
hopelessly compromised. All the Pension had seen her--the mother would
be shrewd enough to understand that. She must allow the renunciation
to remain merely verbal, but the words would sound how magnificent!
The scene was duly played. The bewildered Helene, whom he left in the
dark, confused by the unexpected appearance of her mother, was thrown
into the last stage of dazed distress by being recklessly restored to
the maternal bosom. He kissed her good-bye, and she vanished from his
sight for ever.