Part 30 (1/2)

The man was right after all; he had received no instructions for such an exceptional case as that of his mistress paying a visit to his master's room. It was truly the first time she had been there.

Hitherto, they had only met in her boudoir, at table, or in the drawing-rooms. The present visit might well create surprise among the servants.

Arthur signed to the man to go, and came back into the study with his wife. She hesitated a little on the threshold.

”I wished to speak to you,” she said, in a low voice.

”I am quite at your service.”

He closed the door and pushed forward an armchair, inviting her by a gesture to be seated. These few minutes had sufficed to give him back all that self-control which he had so constantly exercised during the past few weeks. He spoke and moved in a cool measured way, as though showing politeness to a strange lady in a strange salon.

”Will you not sit down?”

”Thank you, I shall not detain you long.”

There was something shy and uncertain in her manner which contrasted oddly with her usual composure. Perhaps in these rooms she felt ill at ease, or perhaps she found it hard to open the conversation.

Arthur did not come to her a.s.sistance. He saw that she twice tried to find words and failed, but he stood at his table silent and constrained, and waited.

”My father has told me of his talk with you,” she began, ”and also of its result.”

”So I expected, and--excuse me, Eugenie--it was just on that account I was surprised to see you here. I thought you were occupied with the preparations for your departure.”

These words were probably intended to counteract any impression his agitation at seeing her might have produced, and they had the desired result. Some seconds clasped before she continued.

”You had already spoken of my journey to the servants in the afternoon?”

”Yes, I thought you would wish it, and it seemed best that the order for the necessary preparation should come from me. Had you thought of introducing the subject in any other way? If so, I regret that I was not earlier made acquainted with your views.”

His tone was frigid, and Eugenie felt as though an icy breath had been wafted over to her. Involuntarily she retreated a step.

”I have no observation to make, only it surprised me that my departure, the date of which had once been fixed, should now be hastened on. You had, I thought, reasons which would have induced you to keep to our arrangement.”

”I? On this point I yielded to a wish, to a request of yours. Baron Windeg gave me to understand, at least, that it was so.”

Eugenie started. She drew a long breath of relief, and all shyness and uncertainty vanished, as though, with this one answer, her courage had wholly returned to her.

”I thought so! My father went too far, Arthur; he spoke in my name, when he was only setting forth his own wishes. I have come now to clear up this misunderstanding, and to tell you that I shall not go, at least not until I hear from your lips that you wish me to do so.”

Eugenie watched him with breathless attention, as though striving to read in his eyes what was pa.s.sing in his mind; but they were downcast still, and her words produced no visible effect. His features relaxed once as she spoke of a misunderstanding, or so she fancied, but the change in him was but momentary, and, after a pause of a few seconds, he replied coldly and composedly as ever: ”You will not go? And why not?” She stepped up to him and said resolutely: ”You told me yourself the other day that all your future is involved in the coming struggle.

I know since our last meeting with Hartmann that it will be fought out to the uttermost, and that your position is even more critical than you will allow. At such a time I can and will not leave you, it would be cowardly, and” ...

”You are very generous,” interrupted Arthur with ill-concealed bitterness. ”But to perform an act of generosity, some one must be found willing to accept it, and I certainly am not willing to accept yours.”

Eugenie's hand grasped the chair near her, she pressed her fingers tightly into its velvet cus.h.i.+ons, as though in repressed anger.

”Not?”

”No. The plan was of your father's making, so be it. He is doubtless right in requiring that his daughter, who will shortly be his altogether again, should be placed in safety and protected from those rough scenes and excesses which, in all probability, may take place here. I am quite of his opinion, and I agree fully to to-morrow's separation.”

She raised her head and said with spirit,