Lipotin’s casual anecdote set off within me a tangle of indistinct echoes; I was going to ask him about this “English Elsbeth” since I, who was born here, had never heard of any such legend connected with Elsbethstein Castle, but everything went too quickly and, anyway, I was still suffering from a distinct tiredness, my brain was still sluggish as you might expect when recovering from a faint – I was tempted to write: narcosis. The quick-fire chatter went over my head and I only caught up with the conversation when the Princess asked me directly whether I would like to spend the rest of the afternoon on an outing in her car to Elsbethstein – it would, she said, be the best thing for a muzzy head.
The only thing that made me hesitate was the thought of Jane; I had promised to be back by now. The image of Jane suddenly dominated my mind, and it seemed the moment had come when I ought to express publicly for the first time what was only the logical consequence of my recent experiences and new attitudes. I did not spend time thinking about it, indeed, I almost blurted out:
“Your invitation to take a trip out into the countryside is, as you might say, just what the doctor ordered, it would restore my shattered nerves somewhat. However, I will have to refuse your kind invitation unless – I hope you will not mind my asking – unless my ... fiancée can accompany us; she expects me back any moment now.”
I gave the Princess and Lipotin no opportunity to express their mild surprise, but rushed on:
“You both know my fiancée already, it is Frau Fromm, the lady who ...”
“Ah, your housekeeper?” cried Lipotin, genuinely taken by surprise.
“Yes, my housekeeper,” I said with a certain relief, covertly watching the Princess. Assja Shotokalungin shook my hand and gave the gently mocking laugh of an old comrade as she said:
“I’m so pleased for you, my friend. So it is only a comma and certainly nothing like a full stop?!”
I could not understand this odd remark; I assumed it was some kind of joke and answered with a laugh. Immediately I felt the laugh was false and a cowardly betrayal of Jane, but again the rapid train of events swept on without me and the Princess continued:
“There is no greater privilege than to share in the happiness of a happy couple for a few hours. Thank you for your suggestion, my friend. It looks like being a charming afternoon.”
From then on everything seemed to take place at heightened speed. In a second we were outside the garden gate climbing into the purring limousine. With a shock, I recognised the chauffeur at the wheel: it was John Roger! – No, of course not John Roger. It was the one of the Princess’ servants who stood out amongst the orientals because of his height and European features. Naturally the Princess would not want some wild Mongol as a chauffeur.
In a flash we were parked outside my house. Jane seemed to have been expecting us. To my secret astonishment she showed no sign of surprise or hesitation when I told her who was below and that we all planned an outing together along the farther bank of the river. She was excited by the idea and got dressed and ready in an astonishingly short time.
Thus began the memorable trip to Elsbethstein.
Even the meeting between the two women as Jane got into the car went differently from how I would have imagined it. The Princess, as ever, was bright and charming with a hint of mockery in her voice; but Jane was in no way awkward and embarrassed, as I might have feared, not at all overwhelmed by suddenly finding herself in this rather strange situation. Quite the contrary. She greeted the Princess with polite reserve, but with a strange, joyful sparkle in her eye. Her thanks to the owner of the car sounded almost like the calm acceptance of a challenge.
The first thing that struck me when we were all sitting in the wide and luxurious limousine was a certain nervous note in the Princess’ laugh which I had never heard before. As she pulled a shawl around her shoulders it almost seemed as if she felt a slight chill.
But my attention was immediately drawn to the chauffeur and the speed he drove at as soon as the suburbs were behind us. It scarcely seemed to be driving, more a kind of gliding, smooth and silent and completely free of the jolting that I would have expected from a country road full of potholes. A glance showed that the needle of the speedometer was on ninety miles an hour and still rising. The Princess did not seem to notice; certainly she said nothing to the chauffeur who sat motionless at the wheel, as if lifeless. I looked at Jane; she was coolly watching the landscape go by out of the window. Her hand lay, relaxed and still, in mine; clearly she was not in the least surprised by the mad speed we were travelling at.
Soon the needle was on ninety-five and creeping up towards a hundred. Then I too was overtaken by a complete indifference to the outward sense impressions of the journey: the sharp crack with which the leaves of roadside trees whipped past, the fleeting glimpses of a dizzying procession of pedestrians, carts and other vehicles which we overtook with a wail of the horn.
I gradually sank into a silent reverie, thinking back over the events of the past few hours. Next to me the Princess’s proud profile stared at the landscape rushing wildly past. She sat there like a bronze idol; her face had
