"I must first be sure that I shall not wound Fraulein Anastasia," the pianist remarks, discreetly. "Are you not in some way related, or a very near friend, to the little Meineck, Fraulein von Gurlichingen?"
"Not at all," Anastasia a.s.sures her. "I spent a couple of weeks in the same house with her last summer, but I had very little to say to her. I never liked her."
"Meineck? Meineck?" says the Oblonsky, with lifted eyebrows. "Is not she the young person who you told me fell so desperately in love with Rohritz?"
Anastasia nods.
"The young lady apparently possesses an inflammable heart," Fraulein Fuhrwesen remarks, contemptuously: "it already throbs for another,--for Prince Lorenzino Capito."
The Princess becomes absorbed in contemplation of her nails; Anastasia observes, "That would seem to be rather an aimless enthusiasm. Pray how did you learn anything about this affair?"
Fraulein Fuhrwesen draws a deep breath: "You know I play the accompaniments at della Seggiola"s cla.s.s. Stella Meineck has attended it for two months. The company is rather mixed, especially so far as the men are concerned. Who do you suppose made his appearance to join the cla.s.s the day before yesterday? It really is too ridiculous,--pretending to want to learn to sing! Prince Lorenzo Capito."
"You don"t say so!" Stasy e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.es.
"Yes, Prince Capito," the narrator repeats. "He stares past all the others, takes a seat beside little Meineck, and talks with her during the entire lesson. What do you think of that, ladies?"
Stasy sighs, and the Oblonsky says,--
"_C"est bien extraordinaire!_ I certainly should not have thought that so insignificant a person could have inspired Capito with the slightest interest."
"I know Prince Capito," the visitor goes on: "I met him in Vienna at the Countess Thierstein"s. His reputation, so far as women are concerned, is disgraceful. Any girl is good enough to help him while away an hour or two."
"Yes, he is a terrible creature," the Princess sighs. "I really had no idea of it. He used to be a good deal at our house while my husband was alive. Of course he never presumed with me."
"_Cela va sans dire_," exclaims Stasy.
"Of course, you know me: to friendly intercourse--yes, I do not pretend to more reserve than I possess--even to a slight flirtation with an interesting man--I have no objection; but anything beyond that absolutely pa.s.ses my comprehension."
"The little Meineck, however," Fraulein Fuhrwesen continues, with a malicious smile, "does not appear to be so strict in her ideas. I distinctly heard her during the singing-lesson arranging a rendezvous in the Louvre with the Prince."
"A rendezvous?" Sophie repeats, with horror. "That is indeed---- And do you know whether Capito kept the appointment?"
"Certainly. I made sure of it," continues her informant. "The morning after the singing-cla.s.s I had a lesson to give near the Louvre, and after it was over I had a little time to spare. I am perfectly familiar with the museum, as I often go there to visit an acquaintance of mine.
I never look at the pictures any more, they tire me to death, but the Louvre is always a nice place to get warm. So I mounted the staircase, and lingered for a while beside the register in the Salle La Caze, exchanging a word or two with an Englishman who is copying a Ribera.
Suddenly the man turned, as every man turns to look after a pretty girl. I turned also, and whom should I see but Mademoiselle Stella, with her yellow hair and her sealskin jacket! Please tell me, ladies, how a person so miserably poor as she is--I know all about the Meinecks" pecuniary circ.u.mstances, coming as I do from Zalow--can buy a sealskin jacket, and a beautiful one? Why, one has to save for three years to get a respectable water-proof."
"Probably it was given to her," the Princess says, with a shrug. "But go on."
"She went directly through the room, without looking at the pictures, precisely like some one who had come simply to meet some one else. I went up to her, and, though I cannot endure the haughty creature, I spoke to her: "Ah, Baronne, how are you?" She replied curtly, looking past me to the right and left, and finally, observing that she could not stay, for she had promised to meet some one,--oh, a lady, of course!--walked quickly away. My time was up. I looked after her, and was leaving, when whom should I encounter in the Galerie d"Apollon but Prince Capito! I suppose any one who knows of his devotion to art can readily imagine why he should be in the Louvre! What do you say to such conduct?"
"Absolutely depraved!" exclaims the Princess.
"We all know whither these "innocent meetings" in the picture-galleries lead," the Fuhrwesen continues. "The next thing she will pay him a visit in his lodgings."
"Oh, my dear!" the Oblonsky laughs affectedly.
"Bah! I live opposite the Prince in the Rue d"Anjou; I should not be at all surprised if I were to see that young lady walk into No. ---- some fine day."
"If you do you must come and tell us instantly!" exclaims the Princess, taking her visitor"s hand. "Oh, how cold you are! Is it possible you are not warm yet? Indeed, you are not sufficiently clothed----"
"My cloak is a little thin, but I cannot help that. Your Highness will readily understand that I am not able to buy a sealskin jacket."
"You---- Anastasia, be kind enough to tell Justine to bring down my two winter cloaks."
Anastasia obligingly brings the cloaks herself, and the Princess requests Fraulein Fuhrwesen to try them on. Although the little pianist is shorter by almost a head and shoulders than the majestic Princess, and consequently the garments trail behind her like coronation-robes, the Oblonsky a.s.sures her that they fit her as though they had been made for her, and immediately bestows upon her one of the two, a magnificent wrap of dark-green velvet, trimmed with fur.
The pianist kisses both hands of the donor, and kneels before her; the Princess says, laughing, "Don"t be absurd, my dear. You see that giving--making others happy--is a pa.s.sion with me. Stasy has one of my cloaks, you have another, I keep the simplest for myself. I have always lived for others only."
CHAPTER XXVII.
A CHANGE AT ERLACH COURT.
"There is something rotten in the state of Denmark," Edgar von Rohritz says to himself, looking out of his window at Erlach Court upon the snow-covered garden below.
Six days ago he arrived at the castle to spend Christmas, as had been agreed upon. The Christmas festivities are at an end. The children from the three villages upon whom Katrine had showered gifts have all, as well as Freddy, become accustomed to their new possessions, but the giant Christmas-tree, robbed, it is true, of its sugarplums, still stands with its candle-stumps and gilt ornaments in the corridor, and from the brown frames of the engravings in the dining-room a few evergreen boughs are still hanging, remnants of the Christmas decorations.
Rohritz has enjoyed celebrating the lovely festival in the country,--everything was bright and gay; but there is a change of atmosphere at Erlach Court; the social charm for which it used to be renowned is lacking.
Edgar"s reception both by husband and by wife was most cordial: the captain is gay, talkative,--almost gayer and more talkative than in summer; but there is a cloud on Katrine"s brow.
Instead of the frank but thoroughly good-humoured tone in which she was wont to deride the captain"s exaggerated outbreaks, she now pa.s.ses them by in silence. She never quarrels with him, she is decidedly displeased with him, and--what surprises Rohritz more than all else--the captain seems to care very little for her displeasure.
To-day Rohritz asked Katrine if it was quite decided that the captain was to leave the army and retire once for all to the country. Whereupon Katrine"s fine eyes sparkle angrily, and with a slight quiver of her delicate nostril she replies, "So it seems. He will not listen to any suggestion of resuming the hard duties of the service, but has accustomed himself entirely to the lazy life of a landed proprietor."
And when Rohritz remains silent, she exclaims, angrily, "I know what you are thinking: that I gave him no choice save to resign his career or his domestic life,--which is no choice at all with men of his stamp, whose love of domesticity is very p.r.o.nounced, and who have no ambition!
But when I acted so I thought he would lead a country life, without deteriorating; I thought he would occupy himself,--would devote his energies to politics, to Slavonic agricultural interests----"
"Indeed?" Rohritz asks. "Did you really expect that of Les?"
"Yes," Katrine exclaims, "I did expect that of Jack; and I had a right to expect it, for he lacks neither energy nor sense."
"He was always considered one of the keenest and most gifted officers in the army," says Rohritz.
"And with justice," Katrine confirms his words. "You have no idea of the energy with which he devoted himself to the service. Were you ever in Hungary?"
"Yes, madame, I served as captain for two years in W----."
"Then you are familiar with the fearful heat of the Hungarian summers.
To order dinner and to sit upright at table exhausted my capacity; whilst he, although he rose at four that he might get through riding-school before the terrible heat of the day, scarcely ever lay down for half an hour. He continually had something to arrange, to decide, to command; he occupied himself with the individual concerns of every soldier in his squadron; he never took a moment"s rest from morning until night; while now--now he does nothing, nothing but sleigh, mend a toy for the boy now and then, and read silly novels."
Rohritz is spared the necessity of replying, for at this moment the quiet drawing-room where this conversation is going on is invaded by the sharp clear tinkle of large sleigh-bells. Katrine turns her head hastily and walks to the window.
"So soon again!" she exclaims, as a fair, stout, pretty woman, wrapped in furs, allows herself, with much loud talking, to be helped out of the sleigh by the captain. Whilst Katrine, with a very gloomy face, takes her seat in an arm-chair to await the stranger"s appearance, Rohritz withdraws, under the pretext of an obligation to answer immediately an important letter.