The stanzas had a sweetness and an inner ecstasy; their music was
muffled and infinitely fluid, with many but shy and half-hidden rimes.
“It is beautiful,” said Denis Lay, who understood German perfectly.
And Crammon said: “It is like an old painting on glass.”
“What I admire most,” said Denis, “is that it brings the figure of
Saint Francis very close to one with that magical quality of _cortesia_
which he possessed above all other saints.”
“_Cortesia?_ What does it mean exactly?” Wiguniewski asked. “Does it
mean a humble and devout courtesy?”
Eva arose. “That is it,” she said, “just that.” And she made an
exquisite gesture with both hands. All looked at her, and she added:
“To give what is mine, and only to appear to take what is another’s,
that is _cortesia_.”
During all this conversation Christian had withdrawn himself from the
others. Aversion was written on his face. Even during the reading he
had hardly been able to keep his seat. He did not know what it was
that rebelled in him and irritated him supremely. A spirit of mockery
and scorn was in him and fought for some expression. With assumed
indifference he called out to Denis Lay, and began to talk to him about
the stallion that Lay desired to sell and Christian to possess. He
had offered forty thousand francs for it. Now he offered forty-five
thousand, and his voice was so loud that all could hear him. Crammon
stepped to his side as though to guard him.
“Eidolon!” Eva cried suddenly.
Christian looked at her with a consciousness of guilt. Their eyes met.
The others became silent in surprise.
“The beast is worth that anywhere,” Christian murmured, without taking
his eyes from Eva.
“Come, Susan,” Eva turned to the woman, and about her mouth curled an
expression of bitterness and scorn. “He knows how to fence and how to
trade horses. Of _cortesia_ he knows nothing. Good-night, gentlemen.”
She bowed and slipped through the green hangings.
In consternation the company scattered.
When she had reached her room Eva threw herself into a chair, and in
bitterness of spirit hid her face in her hands. Susan crouched near
her on the floor, waiting and wondering. When a quarter of an hour had
passed she arose and took the clasps out of Eva’s hair and began to
comb it.
Eva was passive. She was thinking of her own master and of what he had
taught her.