Part 24 (2/2)

”I shan't,” she retorted. ”I never heard such nonsense! As if I could allow you to use the private door of this house just as it suits your fancy. If you want to come in to-night and say good-bye, you must come in by the front door.”

”It's just a whim of mine, Klara,” urged Leopold, now still speaking quietly--almost under his breath--but there was an ominous tremor in his voice and sudden sharp gleams in his eyes which the girl had already noted and which caused the blood to rush back to her heart, leaving her cheeks pale and her lips trembling.

”Nonsense!” she contrived to say, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders.

”Just a whim,” he reiterated. ”So I'll take the key, by your leave.”

He turned to the door of the inner room and pushed it open, just as he had done awhile ago, and now--as then--he cast a rapid glance round the room.

Klara, through half-closed lids, watched his every movement.

”Why!” he exclaimed, turning back to her, and with a look of well-feigned surprise, ”the key is not in its place.”

”I know it isn't,” she retorted curtly.

”Then where is it?”

”I have put it away.”

”When? It was hanging on its usual nail when I first came here this afternoon. I remember the door being open, and my glancing into the room casually. I am sure it was there then.”

”It may have been: but I put it away after that.”

”Why should you have done that?”

”I don't know, and, anyhow, it's no business of yours, is it?”

”Give me that back-door key, Klara,” insisted the young man, in a tone of savage command.

”No!” she replied, slowly and decisively.

There was silence in the little, low raftered room after that, a silence only broken by the buzzing of flies against the white globe of the lamp, and by the snores of the sleepers who sprawled across the tables.

Leopold Hirsch had drawn in his breath with a low, hissing sound; his face, by the yellow light of the lamp, looked ghastly in colour, and his hands were twitching convulsively as the trembling fingers clenched and opened with a monotonous, jerky movement of attempted self-control.

Klara had not failed to notice these symptoms of an agony of mind which the young man was so vainly trying to hide from her. For the moment she almost felt sorry for him--sorry and slightly remorseful.

After all, Leo's frame of mind, the agony which he endured, came from the strength of his love for her. Neither Eros Bela, nor the young Count, nor the many admirers who had hung round her in the past until such time as their fancy found more permanent anchorage elsewhere, would have suffered tortures of soul and of heart because she had indulged in a mild flirtation with a rival. Eros Bela would have stormed and cursed, the young Count would have laid his riding-whip across the shoulders of his successful rival and there would have been an end of the matter.

Leopold Hirsch would go down to h.e.l.l and endure the torments of the d.a.m.ned, then return to heaven at a smile from her, and go back to h.e.l.l again and glory in his misery.

But just now she was frightened of him; he looked almost like a living corpse; the skin on his face was drawn so tightly over the bones that it gave him the appearance of a skull with hollow eyes and wide, grinning mouth.

Outside an owl hooted dismally. Klara gave a slight s.h.i.+ver of fear and looked furtively round her to see if any of the drunkards were awake.

Then she recollected that her father was in the next room, and presently, from afar, came shouts of laughter and the sound of music.

She woke as from a nightmare, gave her fine shoulders a little shake, and looked boldly into her jealous lover's face.

<script>