Frau Wahnschaffe had decided to arrange a spring festival. It was to
illustrate all the splendour which was, on such occasions, traditional
in the house of Wahnschaffe. Councils were held in which the
major-domo, the housekeeper, the mistress’ companion and the countess
took part. Frau Wahnschaffe presided at the sessions with the severity
of a judge. The countess was interested principally in the question of
food and drink.
“My own darling,” she said to Letitia, “seventy-five lobsters have
been ordered, and two hundred bottles of champagne brought up from the
cellar. I am completely overwhelmed. I haven’t been so overwhelmed
since my wedding.”
Letitia stood there in her slenderness and smiled. The words of the
countess were music to her. She wanted to lend wings to the days that
still separated her from the festival. She trembled whenever a cloud
floated across the sky.
Often she scarcely knew how to muffle the jubilation in her own heart.
How wonderful, she thought, that one feels what one feels and that
things really are as they are. No poet’s verse, no painter’s vision
could vie with the power of her imagination, which made all happenings
pure gold and was impenetrable to the shadow of disappointment. Her
life was rich--a pure gift of fate.
She merged into one the boundaries of dream and reality. She made up
her mind to dream as other people determine to take a walk, and the dim
and lawless character of her dream world seemed utterly natural.
One day she spoke of a book that she had read. “It is beautiful beyond
belief.” She described the people, the scene, and the moving fortunes
of the book with such intensity and enthusiasm that all who heard her
were anxious to find the book. But she knew neither its title nor the
name of the author. They asked her: “Where is the book? Where did you
get it? When did you read it?” “Yesterday,” she replied. “It must be
somewhere about.” She hesitated. She was begged to find it. And while
she seemed to be reflecting helplessly, Judith said to her: “Perhaps
you only dreamed it all.” She cast down her eyes and crossed her arms
over her bosom with an inimitable gesture and answered with a sense of
guilt: “Yes, it seems to me that I did merely dream it all.”
Christian asked Crammon: “Do you think that’s mere affectation?”
“Not that,” answered Crammon, “and yet a bit of feminine trickery. God
has provided this sex with many dazzling weapons wherewith to overthrow
us.”
On the day of the festival Letitia wore a gown of white silk. It was a
little dancing frock with many delicate pleats in the skirt and a dark
blue sash about her hips. It looked like the foam of fresh milk. When
she looked into the mirror she smiled excitedly as though she could not
believe her eyes. The countess ran about behind her and said: “Darling,
be careful of yourself!” But Letitia did not know what she meant.
There was a sense of intoxication in her when she spoke to the men and
women and girls. She had always been fond of people; to-day they seemed
irresistible to her. When she met Judith in front of the pavillion,
which was bathed in light, she pressed her hands and whispered: “Could
life be more beautiful? I am frightened to think this night must end.”