The Place of Honeymoons - Page 88/123

The Barone could control every feature save his eyes, and these openly

admitted deep anger. He recollected Herr Rosen well enough. The encounter

over at Cadenabbia was not the first by many. Herr Rosen! His presence in

this room under that name was an insult, and he intended to call the

interloper to account the very first opportunity he found.

Perhaps Celeste, sitting as quiet as a mouse upon the piano-stool, was the

only one who saw these strange currents drifting dangerously about. That

her own heart ached miserably did not prevent her from observing things

with all her usual keenness. Ah, Nora, Nora, who have everything to give

and yet give nothing, why do you play so heartless a game? Why hurt those

who can no more help loving you than the earth can help whirling around

the calm dispassionate sun? Always they turn to you, while I, who have so

much to give, am given nothing! She set down her tea-cup and began the

aria from La Bohème.

Nora, without relaxing the false smile, suddenly found emptiness in

everything.

"Sing!" said Herr Rosen.

"I am too tired. Some other time."

He did not press her. Instead, he whispered in his own tongue: "You are

the most adorable woman in the world!"

And Nora turned upon him a pair of eyes blank with astonishment. It was as

though she had been asleep and he had rudely awakened her. His infatuation

blinded him to the truth; he saw in the look a feminine desire to throw

the others off the track as to the sentiment expressed in his whispered

words.

The hour passed tolerably well. Herr Rosen then observed the time, rose

and excused himself. He took the steps leading abruptly down the terrace

to the carriage road. He had come by the other way, the rambling stone

stairs which began at the porter's lodge, back of the villa.

"Padre," whispered Courtlandt, "I am going. Do not follow. I shall explain

to you when we meet again."

The padre signified that he understood. Harrigan protested vigorously, but

smiling and shaking his head, Courtlandt went away.

Nora ran to the window. She could see Herr Rosen striding along, down the

winding road, his head in the air. Presently, from behind a cluster of

mulberries, the figure of another man came into view. He was going at a

dog-trot, his hat settled at an angle that permitted the rain to beat

squarely into his face. The next turn in the road shut them both from

sight. But Nora did not stir.

Herr Rosen stopped and turned.

"You called?"

"Yes." Courtlandt had caught up with him just as Herr Rosen was about to

open the gates. "Just a moment, Herr Rosen," with a hand upon the bars. "I

shall not detain you long."