The Princess Uchnina had made Crammon’s acquaintance in one of the
castles of the Esterhazys in Hungary. Even at that time the free manner
of her life had set tongues wagging; later on her family disowned her.
He met her again in a hotel at Cairo. Since she was wealthy there
was no danger of his being exploited. He had little liking for the
professional vampire, nor had he ever lost the mastery over his senses.
There was no passion that could prevent him from going to bed at ten
and sleeping soundly through a long night. The princess was fond of
laughing and Crammon helped her to laugh, since it pleased him to see
her amused. He did not care to be loved beyond measure; he valued
considerate treatment and a comradely freedom of contact. He had no
desire for love with its usual spices of romance and disquietude,
jealousy and enslavement. He wanted the delight of love in as tangible
and sensible a form as possible; he cared less for the flame than for
the dainty on the spit.
On the ship that took him and the princess to Brindisi there appeared a
Danish lady with hair the hue of wheat and eyes like cornflowers. She
was lonely, and he sought her out and succeeded in charming her. The
three travelled together to Naples, where the Danish lady and Crammon
seemed to have become friendlier than ever; but the princess only
laughed.
They arrived in Florence. In front of the Baptistery Crammon met a
melancholy young woman, whom he recognized as an acquaintance made
at Ostende. She was the daughter of a manufacturer of Mainz. She had
married recently, but her husband had lost her dowry at Monte Carlo and
had fled to America. Crammon introduced her to the other ladies, but,
for the sake of the Dane, who was suspicious and exacting, passed her
off as his cousin. It was not long, however, before a quarrel broke
out between the two, and Crammon was very busy preaching the spirit of
reconciliation and peace.
The princess laughed.
Crammon said: “I should like to see how many women one can gather
together like this without their thirsting for one another’s blood.”
He made a wager with the princess for a hundred marks that he could
increase the number to five, herself of course excepted.
In the station at Milan a charming creature ran into him, and gave
signs of unalloyed delight. She was an actress who had been intimate
with a friend of his years before. She had just been engaged by a
theatre in Petrograd and was now on her way there. Crammon found her
so amusing that he neglected the others for her sake; and although he
was not lacking in subtlety, the signs of a coming revolution in his
palace increased. The revolution broke out in Munich. There were hard
words and tears; trunks were packed; and the ladies scattered to all
the points of the compass,--North to Denmark, West to Mainz, East to
Petrograd.
Crammon was mournful; he had lost his bet. The little princess laughed.
She remained with him until another lure grew stronger. Then they
celebrated a cheerful farewell.