"But, Baron----"
"Do not oppose me, I entreat: at present _I_ am in command." His tone is very kind, but also very authoritative.
She obeys, half mechanically. He carries her firmly and securely, without stumbling, without betraying the slightest fatigue. At first her sensations are distressing; then slowly, gradually, a pleasant sense of being shielded and cared for overcomes her: her thoughts stray far, far into the past,--back to the time when her father hid her against his breast beneath his cavalry cloak, and she looked out between its folds from the warm darkness upon the world outside. The minutes fly.
"We are here!" Rohritz says, very hoa.r.s.ely.
She looks up. A reddish light is streaming out into the darkness from the windows of a low, clumsy building. He puts her down on the threshold of the inn.
"Thanks!" she murmurs, without looking at him. He is silent.
The inn parlour is empty. A bright fire is burning in the huge tiled stove; the fragrance of cedar-berries slowly scorching on its ledge neutralizes in part the odour of old cheese, beer, and cheap tobacco plainly to be perceived in spite of the open window. In a broad cabinet with glazed doors are to be seen among various monstrosities of gla.s.s and porcelain two battered sugar ships with paper pennons, and a bridal wreath with crumpled white muslin blossoms and a.r.s.enic-green leaves.
The portraits of their Majesties, very youthful in appearance, dating from their coronation, hang on each side of this piece of furniture.
Among the various tables covered with black oil-cloth there is one of rustic neatness provided with a red-flowered cover, and set with greenish gla.s.ses, blue-rimmed plates, and iron knives and forks with wooden handles.
The hostess, a colossal dame, who looks like a meal-sack with a string tied around its middle, makes her appearance, to receive the unfortunates and to place her entire wardrobe at Stella"s disposal.
"Can we not go on, then?" Stella asks, in dismay.
"Unfortunately, no. I have sent to the nearest village for some sort of conveyance, and my messenger cannot possibly return in less than an hour. And I must prepare you for another unfortunate circ.u.mstance: we shall be forced to go by a very long and roundabout road; the Groblach bridge is carried away, and the Save is whirling along in its current the pillars and ruins, making the ferry impracticable for the present."
"Oh, good heavens!" sighs Stella, who has meanwhile taken off her dripping water-proof and wrapped about her shoulders a thick red shawl loaned her by the hostess. "Well, at least we are under shelter."
Thereupon the hostess brings in a gra.s.s-green waiter on which are placed a dish of ham and eggs and a can of beer.
"I ordered a little supper, but I cannot vouch for the excellence of the viands," Rohritz says, in French, to Stella. "I should be glad if you would consent to eat something warm. It is the best preventive against cold."
Stella shows no disposition to criticise what is thus set before her.
"How pleasant!" she exclaims, gaily, taking her seat at the table. "I am terribly hungry, and I had not ventured to hope for anything to eat before midnight."
It is a pleasure to him to sit opposite to her, looking at her pretty, cheerful face,--a pleasure to laugh at her gay sallies.
Would it not be charming to sit opposite to her thus daily at his own table,--to lavish care and tenderness upon the poor child who had been so neglected and thrust out into the world,--to spoil and pet her to his heart"s content? "Grasp your chance,--grasp it!" the heart in his bosom cries out: "her lot is hard, she is grateful for a little sympathy, will she not smile on you in spite of your gray hair?" But reason admonishes: "Forbear! she is only a child. To be sure, if, as she has avowed, her heart be really untouched, why then----"
Whilst he, absorbed in such careful musings, grows more and more taciturn, she chatters away gaily upon every conceivable topic, devouring with an appet.i.te to be envied the frugal refection he has provided.
"It is delightful, our improvised supper," she declares, "almost as charming as the little suppers at the Britannia which papa used to have ready for me when I came home from parties in Venice, as terribly hungry as one always is on returning from a Venetian soiree, where one is delightfully entertained but gets nothing to eat."
"It seems, then, that the Giovanelli ball was not your only glimpse of Venetian society?" Rohritz remarks, with a glance that is well-nigh indiscreetly searching.
"Before papa grew so much worse I very often went out: papa insisted upon it. The Countess L---- chaperoned me. And at Lady Stair"s evenings in especial I enjoyed myself almost as much as I was bored at the Giovanelli ball. I cannot, "tis true, dance; but talk,"--she laughs somewhat shyly, as if in ridicule of her talkativeness,--"I _can_ talk."
"That there is nothing to eat at a Venetian soiree I know from experience," Rohritz says, rather ill-humouredly, "but how one can find any enjoyment there I am absolutely unable to understand. Venetian society is terrible: the men especially are intolerable."
"I did not find it so," Stella declares, shaking her head with her usual grave simplicity in a.s.serting her opinion; "not at all."
"But you must confess that Italians are usually low-toned; that----"
"But I did not meet Italians exclusively; I met Austrians, English, Russians; although in fact"--she pauses reflectively, then says, with conviction--"the nicest of all, my very particular friend, was an Italian, Prince Zino Capito."
"He calls himself an Austrian," Rohritz interposes.
"He was born in Rome," Stella rejoins.
"I see you know all about him," Rohritz observes.
"We saw a great deal of each other," Stella chatters on easily. "We were in the same hotel, papa and I, and the Prince. His place at table was next to mine, and in fine weather he used to take us to sail in his cutter. He often came in the evenings to play bezique with papa. He was very kind to papa."
"Evidently," Rohritz observes.
"You seem to dislike him!" Stella says, in some surprise.
"Not at all. We always got along very well together," Rohritz coldly a.s.sures her. "I know him intimately; my oldest brother married his sister Therese."
"Ah! is she as handsome as he?" Stella asks, innocently.
"Very graceful and distinguished in appearance; she does not resemble him at all." And with a growing sharpness in his tone Rohritz adds,--
"Do you think him so very handsome?"
The hostess interrupts them by bringing in a dish of inviting strawberries. Stella thanks her kindly for her excellent supper, the woman says something to Rohritz in the peasant patois, which Stella does not understand, and he fastens his eye-gla.s.s in his eye, a sign with him of a momentary access of ill humour.
After the woman has withdrawn he remarks, with an odd twinkle of his eyes, "How many years too young did you say I was, Baroness Stella, to be your father? four or five, was it not? _Eh bien_, our hostess thinks differently: she has just congratulated me upon my charming daughter."
But Stella has no time to make reply: her eyes are riveted in horror upon the clock against the wall. "Is it really half-past ten?" she exclaims. "No, thank heaven; the clock has stopped. What o"clock is it, Baron Rohritz?"
"A quarter after eleven," he says, startled himself, and rather uncomfortable. "I do not understand why the messenger is not here with the conveyance."
"Good heavens!" Stella cries, in utter dismay. "What will mamma say?"
"Be reasonable. Your mother cannot blame you in this case; she must be informed that it was impossible to cross the ferry," he says, anxious himself about the matter, however.
"Certainly; but while she does not know of our break-down she will think we have had plenty of time to reach Wolfsegg by the longest way round. You certainly acted for the best, but it would have been better, much better, if Uncle Jack had stayed with me. He knows all about the country, and he has a decided way of making these lazy peasants do as he pleases."
"I do not believe that with all his knowledge of the country, and his decision of character, he could have succeeded in procuring you a conveyance," Rohritz says, with growing irritation.
"If the ferry is useless, perhaps we might cross in a skiff," Stella says, almost in tears.
"I will see what is to be done," he rejoins. "At all events it shall not be my fault if your mother"s anxiety is not fully appeased in the course of the next half-hour."
With this he leaves the room. Shortly afterwards the hostess makes her appearance.
"Where has the Herr Papa gone?" she asks.
"He has gone out to see if we cannot cross the Save in a boat."
"He cannot do it to-night," the woman a.s.serts. "He would surely not think of----" Without finishing her sentence she puts down the plate of cheese she has just brought, and hurries away.