Part 30 (1/2)

”Do they have supper so early at the baker's?”

”Yes.”

I then sat down beside the piano, and thought for a whole hour what a stupid instrument the piano was; a man's head may be full of ideas, and it will drive them all out.

Yet I had so much to ponder over. What should I say to my uncle when he came. With what should I begin? How could I tell him what I knew? What should I ask from him?

But how was it possible that neither was at home at such a critical time? Surely they must have been informed of such a misfortune. I did not dare to introduce Lorand's name before the governess. Who knows what others are? Besides, I had no sympathy for her. For me a governess seemed always a most frivolous creature.

In the room there was a large clock that caused me most annoyance. How long it took for those hands to reach ten o'clock! Then, when it did strike, its tone was of that aristocratic nasal quality that it must have acquired from the voices of the people around it.

Sometimes the governess laughed, when Melanie made some curious mistake; Melanie, too, laughed and peeped from behind her music to see if I was smiling.

I had not even noticed it.

Then my pretty cousin poutingly tossed back her curly hair, as if she were annoyed that I too was beginning to play a part of indifference towards her.

At last the street-door bell rang. From the footsteps I knew my uncle had come. They were so dignified.

Soon the butler entered and said I could speak with his lords.h.i.+p, if I so desired.

Trembling all over, I took my hat, and wished the ladies good-night.

”Are you not coming back, to hear the end of the Cavatina;” inquired Melanie.

”I cannot,” I answered, and left them there.

My uncle's study was on the farther side of the hall; the butler lighted my way with a lamp, then he put it down on a chest, that I might find my way back.

”Well, my child, what do you want?” inquired my uncle, in that gay, playful tone, which we are wont to use in speaking to children to express that we are quite indifferent as to their affairs.

I answered languidly, as if some gravestone were weighing upon my breast,

”Dear uncle, Lorand has left us.”

”You know already?” he asked, putting on his many colored embroidered dressing-gown.

”You know too?” I exclaimed, taken aback.

”What, that Lorand has run away?” remarked my uncle, coolly b.u.t.toning together the silken folds of his dressing gown; ”why I know more than that:--I know also that my wife has run away with him, and all my wife's jewels, not to mention the couple of thousand florins that were at home--all have run away with your brother Lorand.”

How I reached the street after those words; whether they opened the door for me; whether they led me out or kicked me out, I a.s.sure you I do not know. I only came to myself, when Marton seized my arm in the street and shouted at me:

”Well sir Lieutenant-Governor, you walk right into me without even seeing me. I got tired of waiting in the beer-house and began to think that they had run you in too. Well, what is the matter? How you stagger.”

”Oh! Marton,” I stammered, ”I feel very faint.”

”What has happened?”

”I cannot tell anyone that.”

”Not to anyone? No! not to Mr. Brodfresser,[47] nor to Mr.