Part 7 (1/2)
Would that suit you?” Gesa's head sank. ”How long must I remain away?”
he murmured.
”Six--eight months. You must decide by tomorrow. Are you afraid of seasickness?” laughed the virtuoso.
”That?--No! but--Well I will ask the little one. Six or eight months--it is long--and so far. She will not have the courage. However, I thank you heartily!”
The servant announced an ill.u.s.trious amateur and Gesa left.
To his great astonishment Annette exulted and rejoiced when he told her of Marinksi's offer. ”I did not know that you were already such a great man in the world,” she cried, triumphantly.
”Shall I accept?” asked Gesa, with a trembling voice, tears standing in his eyes. She looked at him amazed. ”Would you refuse? Gesa, only think when you come back from America, a rich man!”
He sighed once deeply, then he bent over her, kissed her forehead, and quietly said, ”You are right, Annette. I was cowardly!”
He accepted Marinski's offer.
A few days later, a little dinner was served in the Rue Ravestein, which was very elaborate for the surroundings, and at which Gesa left all his favorite dishes untouched, and old Delileo exerted himself to talk very rapidly about the most indifferent things, shook pepper into his marmalade, and finally raised his gla.s.s with a trembling hand and gave a toast to Gesa's speedy, happy return. Annette, who up to this time had regarded Gesa's departure with the most frivolous gaiety, became every moment more painfully excited. She ate nothing, said not a word, and looked wretched, pain and terror were in her eyes. When Gesa drew her to him, and kindly stroked her pallid cheeks, she broke into immoderate weeping, clung to him convulsively, and begged him again and again ”do not leave me alone--do not leave me alone!”
He made no answer to her unreasonable words, only pitied her most tenderly, called her a thousand sweet names, and said, turning to Delileo, ”Try to divert her a little, father--take her sometimes to the theatre, and as soon as pleasant weather comes, take her to the country. And read with her a little,--none of the complicated old trash that we delight in, but something simple, entertaining, to suit a spoiled little girl.”
”Is there any one in the world, better than he is, papa?” sobbed Annette. The servant entered and announced that the carriage was waiting at the Place Royale, and the porter was there to take Monsieur Gesa's luggage, at the same time clutching his traveling bag and violin case. Gesa looked at the clock. ”It is time,” said he, quietly, ”be reasonable, Annette!”
But she sobbed incessantly, ”do not leave me alone,” and he was forced to unclasp her dear, soft arms from his neck. He pressed his foster-father's hand in silence, and hastened away. From the street, he heard the sound of a window opening above, and Annette's voice. He stood still, looked back--cried ”Auf Wiedersehen!”--and hurried on to the Place Royale.
Before the train puffed off, a slender, blonde man rushed onto the platform. ”De Sterny!” cried Gesa, deeply moved.
”Well, well, you expected me I hope. I slipped away from the X's in order to catch you. You understand that I did not want to let you go without wis.h.i.+ng you 'bonne chance' for the last time.”
The conductor opened the door of the coupe--Gesa entered it.
”Bonne chance! it can't fail you”--cried de Sterny.
Gesa bent out of the coach window. ”Thousand thanks for all your kindness,” he cried, ”and if it is not too tiresome for you,--then to-morrow look in a moment, to see how it is with her.”
”I will take her your last greeting,” said de Sterny.
The virtuoso beckoned smilingly, while the train steamed away.
Thus, smiling, kind, sympathetic, Gesa lost sight of his friend. Thus he remained in Gesa's memory.
XV
Thanks to a sudden outbreak of yellow fever in the South, Marinski's troupe left America earlier than had been agreed upon.
With salary somewhat diminished by this circ.u.mstance, a bundle of bombastic critiques, and some very pretty ornaments from Tiffany's in New York for Annette, Gesa went on board the ”Arcadia,” in which Marinski's troupe were to sail for old Europe. How he rejoiced for his ”little one!” She had looked so badly when he left Brussels, was so inconsolable at parting. He resolved to give her a surprise by his sudden return. What great eyes she would make! Sometimes at night he started from sleep--a cry of joy and her name on his lips.
The whole troupe knew why he was hurrying home. He never grew weary of telling about Annette. About Annette and de Sterny. He was much beloved by all his traveling companions, and they all felt a lively interest in Annette; but of de Sterny they would not hear a word; and an old ba.s.so, who had taken Gesa especially to his heart, said warningly--