Part 20 (2/2)

His heart beat so that he could scarcely speak, and as they mounted the stair he had to take firm hold of the railing; his happiness made him almost dizzy.

In the parlor, a large corner-room, they found no one. The captain went out to summon his daughter, and Hans heard him calling, ”Betty!”

Betty! What a lovely name, and how well it suited that lovely being!

The happy lover was already thinking how delightful it would be when he came home from his work at dinner-time, and could call out into the kitchen: ”Betty! is dinner ready?”

At this moment the captain entered the room again with his daughter. She came straight up to Cousin Hans, took his hand, and bade him welcome.

But she added, ”You must really excuse me deserting you again at once, for I am in the middle of a dish of b.u.t.tered eggs, and that's no joke, I can tell you.”

Thereupon she disappeared again; the captain also withdrew to prepare for the meal, and Cousin Hans was once more alone.

The whole meeting had not lasted many seconds, and yet it seemed to Cousin Hans that in these moments he had toppled from ledge to ledge, many fathoms down, into a deep, black pit. He supported himself with both hands against an old, high-backed easy-chair; he neither heard, saw, nor thought; but half mechanically he repeated to himself: ”It was not she--it was not she!”

No, it was not she. The lady whom he had just seen, and who must consequently be Miss Schrappe, had not a trace of blonde hair curling over her brow. On the contrary, she had dark hair, smoothed down to both sides. Her eyes were not in the least roguish or light blue, but serious and dark-gray--in short, she was as unlike the charmer as possible.

After his first paralysis, Cousin Hans's blood began to boil; a violent anguish seized him: he raged against the captain, against Miss Schrappe, against Uncle Frederick and Wellington, and the whole world.

He would smash the big mirror and all the furniture, and then jump out of the corner window; or he would take his hat and stick, rush down-stairs, leave the house, and never more set foot in it; or he would at least remain no longer than was absolutely necessary.

Little by little he became calmer, but a deep melancholy descended upon him. He had felt the unspeakable agony of disappointment in his first love, and when his eye fell on his own image in the mirror, he shook his head compa.s.sionately.

The captain now returned, well-brushed and spick and span. He opened a conversation about the politics of the day. It was with difficulty that Cousin Hans could even give short and commonplace answers; it seemed as though all that had interested him in Captain Schrappe had entirely evaporated. And now Hans remembered that on the way home from the esplanade he had promised to give him the whole sham fight in Sweden after supper.

”Will you come, please; supper is ready,” said Miss Betty, opening the door into the dining-room, which was lighted with candles.

Cousin Hans could not help eating, for he was hungry; but he looked down at his plate and spoke little.

Thus the conversation was at first confined for the most part to the father and daughter. The captain, who thought that this bashful young man was embarra.s.sed by Miss Betty's presence, wanted to give him time to collect himself.

”How is it you haven't invited Miss Beck this evening, since she's leaving town to-morrow,” said the old man. ”You two could have entertained our guest with some duets.”

”I asked her to stay, when she was here this afternoon; but she was engaged to a farewell party with some other people she knows.”

Cousin Hans p.r.i.c.ked up his ears; could this be the lady of the morning that they were speaking about?

”I told you she came down to the esplanade to say good-bye to me,”

continued the captain. ”Poor girl! I'm really sorry for her.”

There could no longer be any doubt.

”I beg your pardon--are you speaking of a lady with curly hair and large blue eyes?” asked Cousin Hans.

”Exactly,” answered the captain, ”do you know Miss Beck?”

”No,” answered Hans, ”it only occurred to me that it might be a lady I met down on the esplanade about twelve o'clock.”

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