"You are mistaken," said the tall prince pointing to a special bar on
the score. "Weingartner always ignores this repeat, and goes
straight on to the next movement. Nor is it certain whether
Beethoven himself meant that for repeat marks. I have had the
original manuscript in my hand, and just at that point is a blot of
ink!"
"Still," put in Andreas, "if one compares this with similar effects
in other compositions, don't you think we might conclude that...?"
"Of course," interposed the countess. "In the next world I shall
always have this part repeated."
The three speakers were standing in the embrasure of the window.
Gathered round the fireplace at the other end of the small rococo
room, were the count, Baron Linnartz, and the baroness. The shrill
laughter of the lady could be heard from time to time. It rang false
now, as it always did when she was put out and had no suitable answer
ready. Her eyes were full of enmity as she glanced across at the
countess.
"You have made up your mind, then, to be a man at your next
reincarnation?"
The prince spoke pointedly and looked down at her with an expression
which emphasized the physical difficulty of such a transformation.
The big woman instinctively pulled up the neck of her gown so that
the soft green silk came into contact with the gems that shone on her
full round bosom.
"Then maybe I shall at last fall in love with you, Prince, for you
will undoubtedly be a woman!"
Andreas, who had never heard a lady speak with so much boldness,
looked at the countess dubiously, and pressed his lips tightly
together. The prince, standing slightly in Andreas's rear, was fully
aware that both were trembling.
"Possibly you are right," said he in a tone that was a mixture of
boredom and reflectiveness. Though he was fond of teasing her, he
felt a platonic sympathy for the eccentric being. "I shall hope to
be a woman fiddler in the orchestra of which you are to be the
conductor."
"I shall only have men in my orchestra," answered the countess
resolutely. "You shall be my first 'cellist," she added turning to
Andreas, without in any way relaxing the intense seriousness of her
expression.
"And what will the count play?" asked the prince maliciously.
"Piccolo!"
The two men laughed; and now the countess joined in their mirth for
she wished to conceal the fact that this, also, was spoken in earnest.
"Good morning, Count Eckersberg," she exclaimed as the military
attaché stood bowing at the door.
"May I share the joke?" he inquired, advancing towards the group in
the window.
"Which one? Ours?" cried the count from his corner by the fireplace.
He hoped Eckersberg might join his group, for the Linnartz
conversation was anything but entertaining.
"Embarras de richesse," said Eckersberg in conventional tones, trying
to bring the two groups together.
"Shall we go in to lunch, Gregor?"
"I'm expecting another lady."
"Who is she?" came from the two angles at once.
"Surprise à la fourchette!"
"May I know?" asked the baron stepping up to the countess's side.
"A stranger. I cannot even remember her name. She came with a
letter of introduction to the ambassador. He asked her to luncheon."
"Introduced by Scherer, comes from Berlin," said the ambassador, as
if to allay any doubts that might have arisen, for he was alive to
the fact that strange things were laid to his charge. "You will find
her quite charming."
"Can it be the young person with the love-locks?" inquired the
military attaché.
"Ecco!" was the brief answer.
Andreas had not missed a syllable of this lively exchange. At the
words "love-locks" his pulses began to throb. The thought of Diana
rushed through his brain. He drew nearer the countess, for she alone
of all those present in the room inspired him with confidence.
"Who is the lady?" he whispered.
He was conscious of his heart-beats as the countess, turning to her
husband, asked:
"Gregor, what is our guest's name?"
The door was thrown open as she spoke, and her interest was
transferred from the count to the new arrival. Andreas had followed
her first glance, and hung upon the count's lips whence he expected
the answer to the riddle. Now, however, his interest too was centred
on the door which seemed to him to fly open as if by magic, for from
where he stood he could not see the servant who ushered the guest
into the room. The tension he experienced at this moment was so
extreme that he felt anything might happen.
Diana appeared in the doorway.
A sudden quiet fell upon the company. She had so recently been the
subject of their conversation that they felt caught in the act,
self-conscious. Diana, as usual, paused a moment on the threshold
before shaking hands with the ambassador, who had stepped forward to
welcome her. The baron and his wife, ever suspicious of anything the
chief was responsible for, looked at Diana sceptically; the officer's
inspection savoured of curiosity; the prince's, of delicate mockery.
The countess, whose lonely heart was wearied with the hundreds of
masks she had been forced to gaze on in this very room, and yet whose
hopes revived with every fresh apparition, saw the young woman in
profile shaking hands with the host. Taken aback by the boyish
silhouette, and at once recognizing all this little figure contained
of pride and courage, the countess turned towards Andreas as if to
seek confirmation of her first impression. But the stranger was
being led towards her by the count, and the hostess, remembering her
rôle, took a step forward in greeting. At that moment Diana came to
a dead stop. The countess, not knowing what had happened, followed
suit. Thus the women faced one another like two foes who had met
unexpectedly. Diana had recognized Andreas; at the same moment she
also saw the golden-haired woman, with the dark-haired youth standing
immediately behind her; one picture, a draught to quaff in one gulp.
Before the other guests became aware that anything was amiss, the
women had pulled themselves together and were already shaking hands.
The prince, alone, inscribed upon the tablets of his memory the three
looks that had been exchanged. The count was introducing her.
"Herr Seeland--Fräulein de Wassilko."
Diana slowly bowed her head; Andreas bent forward from the waist.
"You take the countess in," whispered the prince to Andreas, for it
was customary among them to make a newly appointed attaché play the
son of the family.