“Ah, Herr Dimitri, I am very … very miserable!”
“You are miserable?”
“Ah, very! Could I have foreseen such a thing? All of a sudden, like thunder from a clear sky …”
She caught her breath.
“But what is it? Explain! Would you like a glass of water?”
“No, thank you.” Frau Lenore wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and began to cry with renewed energy. “I know all, you see! All!”
“All? that is to say?”
“Everything that took place to-day! And the cause … I know that too! You acted like an honourable man; but what an unfortunate combination of circumstances! I was quite right in not liking that excursion to Soden … quite right!” (Frau Lenore had said nothing of the sort on the day of the excursion, but she was convinced now that she had foreseen “all” even then.) “I have come to you as to an honourable man, as to a friend, though I only saw you for the first time five days ago…. But you know I am a widow, a lonely woman…. My daughter …”
Tears choked Frau Lenore’s voice. Sanin did not know what to think. “Your daughter?” he repeated.
“My daughter, Gemma,” broke almost with a groan from Frau Lenore, behind the tear-soaked handkerchief, “informed me to-day that she would not marry Herr Klüber, and that I must refuse him!”
Sanin positively started back a little; he had not expected that.
“I won’t say anything now,” Frau Lenore went on, “of the disgrace of it, of its being something unheard of in the world for a girl to jilt her betrothed; but you see it’s ruin for us, Herr Dimitri!” Frau Lenore slowly and carefully twisted up her handkerchief in a tiny, tiny little ball, as though she would enclose all her grief within it. “We can’t go on living on the takings of our shop, Herr Dimitri! and Herr Klüber is very rich, and will be richer still. And what is he to be refused for? Because he did not defend his betrothed? Allowing that was not very handsome on his part, still, he’s a civilian, has not had a university education, and as a solid business man, it was for him to look with contempt on the frivolous prank of some unknown little officer. And what sort of insult was it, after all, Herr Dimitri?”
“Excuse me, Frau Lenore, you seem to be blaming me.”
“I am not blaming you in the least, not in the least! You’re quite another matter; you are, like all Russians, a military man …”
“Excuse me, I’m not at all …”
“You’re a foreigner, a visitor, and I’m grateful to you,” Frau Lenore went on, not heeding Sanin. She sighed, waved her hands, unwound her handkerchief again, and blew her nose. Simply from the way in which her distress expressed itself, it could be seen that she had not been born under a northern sky.
“And how is Herr Klüber to look after his shop, if he is to fight with his customers? It’s utterly inconsistent! And now I am to send him away! But what are we going to live on? At one time we were the only people that made angel cakes, and nougat of pistachio nuts, and we had plenty of customers; but now all the shops make angel cakes! Only consider; even without this, they’ll talk in the town about your duel … it’s impossible to keep it secret. And all of a sudden, the marriage broken off! It will be a scandal, a scandal! Gemma is a splendid girl, she loves me; but she’s an obstinate republican, she doesn’t care for the opinion of others. You’re the only person that can persuade her!”
Sanin was more amazed than ever. “I, Frau Lenore?”
“Yes, you alone … you alone. That’s why I have come to you; I could not think of anything else to do! You are so clever, so good! You have fought in her defence. She will trust you! She is bound to trust you—why, you have risked your life on her account! You will make her understand, for I can do nothing more; you make her understand that she will bring ruin on herself and all of us. You saved my son—save my daughter too! God Himself sent you here … I am ready on my knees to beseech you….” And Frau Lenore half rose from her seat as though about to fall at Sanin’s feet…. He restrained her.
“Frau Lenore! For mercy’s sake! What are you doing?”
She clutched his hand impulsively. “You promise …”
“Frau Lenore, think a moment; what right have I …”
“You promise? You don’t want me to die here at once before your eyes?”
Sanin was utterly nonplussed. It was the first time in his life he had had to deal with any one of ardent Italian blood.
“I will do whatever you like,” he cried. “I will talk to Fräulein Gemma….”
Frau Lenore uttered a cry of delight.
“Only I really can’t say what result will come of it …”
“Ah, don’t go back, don’t go back from your words!” cried Frau Lenore in an imploring voice; “you have already consented! The result is certain to be excellent. Any way, _I_ can do nothing more! She won’t listen to _me_!”
“Has she so positively stated her disinclination to marry Herr Klüber?” Sanin inquired after a short silence.
“As if she’d cut the knot with a knife! She’s her father all over, Giovanni Battista! Wilful girl!”
“Wilful? Is she!” … Sanin said slowly.
“Yes … yes … but she’s an angel too. She will mind you. Are you coming soon? Oh, my dear Russian friend!” Frau Lenore rose impulsively from her chair, and as impulsively clasped the head of Sanin, who was sitting opposite her. “Accept a mother’s blessing—and give me some water!”
Sanin brought Signora Roselli a glass of water, gave her his word of honour that he would come directly, escorted her down the stairs to the street, and when he was back in his own room, positively threw up his arms and opened his eyes wide in his amazement.
“Well,” he thought, “well, _now_ life is going round in a whirl! And it’s whirling so that I’m giddy.” He did not attempt to look within, to realise what was going on in himself: it was all uproar and confusion, and that was all he knew! What a day it had been! His lips murmured unconsciously: “Wilful … her mother says … and I have got to advise her … her! And advise her what?”
Sanin, really, was giddy, and above all this whirl of shifting sensations and impressions and unfinished thoughts, there floated continually the image of Gemma, the image so ineffaceably impressed on his memory on that hot night, quivering with electricity, in that dark window, in the light of the swarming stars!
XXIV
With hesitating footsteps Sanin approached the house of Signora Roselli. His heart was beating violently; he distinctly felt, and even heard it thumping at his side. What should he say to Gemma, how should he begin? He went into the house, not through the shop, but by the back entrance. In the little outer room he met Frau Lenore. She was both relieved and scared at the sight of him.
“I have been expecting you,” she said in a whisper, squeezing his hand with each of hers in turn. “Go into the garden; she is there. Mind, I rely on you!”
Sanin went into the garden.
Gemma was sitting on a garden-seat near the path, she was sorting a big basket full of cherries, picking out the ripest, and putting them on a dish. The sun was low—it was seven o’clock in the evening—and there was more purple than gold in the full slanting light with which it flooded the whole of Signora Roselli’s little garden. From time to time, faintly audibly, and as it were deliberately, the leaves rustled, and belated bees buzzed abruptly as they flew from one flower to the next, and somewhere a dove was cooing a never-changing, unceasing note. Gemma had on the same round hat in which she had driven to Soden. She peeped at Sanin from under its turned-down brim, and again bent over the basket.
Sanin went up to Gemma, unconsciously making each step shorter, and … and … and nothing better could he find to say to her than to ask why was she sorting the cherries.
Gemma was in no haste to reply.
“These are riper,” she observed at last, “they will go into jam, and those are for tarts. You know the round sweet tarts we sell?”
As she said those words, Gemma bent her head still lower, and her right hand with two cherries in her fingers was suspended in the air between the basket and the dish.
“May I sit by you?” asked Sanin.
“Yes.” Gemma moved a little along on the seat. Sanin placed himself beside her. “How am I to begin?” was his thought. But Gemma got him out of his difficulty.
“You have fought a duel to-day,” she began eagerly, and she turned all her lovely, bashfully flushing face to him—and what depths of gratitude were shining in those eyes! “And you are so calm! I suppose for you danger does not exist?”
“Oh, come! I have not been exposed to any danger. Everything went off very satisfactorily and inoffensively.”
Gemma passed her finger to right and to left before her eyes … Also an Italian gesture. “No! no! don’t say that! You won’t deceive me! Pantaleone has told me everything!”
“He’s a trustworthy witness! Did he compare me to the statue of the commander?”
“His expressions may be ridiculous, but his feeling is not ridiculous, nor is what you have done to-day. And all that on my account … for me … I shall never forget it.”
“I assure you, Fräulein Gemma …”
“I shall never forget it,” she said deliberately; once more she looked intently at him, and turned away.