Aloud they were saying, and again their voices seemed to be coming
from afar:
"Did you have a good place?"
"Yes, about the sixth row."
"One could see well from every part of the hall."
At last they were gone.
"I wonder why my tall prince did not come? A visit from him would
have pleased me better," thought Diana as she slipped into bed.
Franklin, in order to prolong the few minutes he would be in the
countess's company, had proposed to walk home with her across the
park. The arc lamps shone down upon the tree-tops like moons that
had come close to the earth. It was a lovely night, clear and fresh
as only a winter night can be. They walked along in silence side by
side; and the longer the silence lasted, the more freely did they
allow their thoughts to range, until Franklin said aloud:
"And yet Diana's beauty is no more than a cloak to protect her
liberty."
Olivia's mind had been toying with similar ideas. She looked up
suddenly at the tall stranger with the mellow voice, and the poet
read in her eyes the meaning of her melancholy. Olivia said:
"And at the same time it is a magic garment which carries her away
into the air. Have you known her long?"
"Many years ago I was studying with her father in London. She was my
fellow student."
"Is he a professor?"
"He is a sage."
"Does he live alone?"
"As man of the world and crank."
"Is her mother still alive? She never speaks of her."
"She died when giving birth to her son. It is for that reason that
the old man cannot bear to have his son near him. Her name was
Helena, but he never mentioned her to me. Diana once showed me her
picture."
As they emerged from the park, Franklin reflected that he had wasted
his few minutes with Olivia in talk about Diana instead of about the
countess herself, and he would have liked to remedy matters now. But
she turned to him again and asked:
"Do you think she cares for her brother?"
Franklin answered innocently:
"He'll make good yet."
"As an artist?"
"As a man."
Olivia's thoughts took a somewhat cynical turn. Then:
"I may hope for as much in my son's case!"
"You have a son, Countess? A child?"
"Not that, but a boy who is still quite young."
"Like you?"
"He takes after his father."
Franklin suddenly remembered the duel which had put an end to the
count's career, he remembered that a love affair had been the cause
of the duel, and he saw the woman walking at his side burdened rather
than protected by her furs, and for several minutes he climbed the
ladder of imagination, up and down, up and down again, giving his
fancy full play. Then, very slowly, as if he would have prepared to
stop half way in the expression of his thought, he murmured:
"And his father was, so I am told, obliging enough to..."
Ten strides separated her from her hotel. Olivia was thinking:
"They are all alike, these poets, these worthy cits. Ah, if only our
own people were less banal, one would give such men the
go-by.--Sidney took a room here yesterday. I suppose he's waiting
for me in the lobby."
Aloud she said frigidly to the man who had seen her home:
"Thanks. Good night."
But the young man was not awaiting her in the lobby after all.