“But if,” answered Giraldi, “it should just be in the presence of her family that the Baroness especially needs the friendship of men of position and weight? If she lays the greatest stress on showing that wherever she appears the friendship of those men is secured to her.”
“Let us go!” exclaimed the Count.
“One word more,” said Giraldi.
In the hitherto calm eyes of the Italian a deeper fire burned. The Count stood breathless; he had an undefined feeling that now he was to hear the solution of the riddle which, in spite of all, was still a mystery to him.
“And if,” continued Giraldi slowly, as if weighing every syllable, “the Count should imagine that the Baroness does not expect to buy his friendship by doing him a service in a matter of business, but rather by using all her influence in his favour, in case he should have the wish, once for all, to make the reproach of being a stranger and intruder in the family impossible. I need say no more, if the Count understands, and I dare say no more if he has not understood me.”
The blood mounted into the Count’s face.
“If he dared to understand you!” he exclaimed, seizing the hand of the Italian and pressing it warmly—“if he dared!”
“That would be my smallest fear,” answered Giraldi, with a crafty smile; “but I feel neither that nor any other. Only let prudence go hand in hand with courage, and let Count Golm kindly trust in this delicate business to the experience and knowledge of the world of an older man.”
“I will not take a step without you—not a step!”
They had already reached the door when François entered with a card, which Giraldi, after glancing at it, handed to the Count.
“You see. Count Golm! Il n’y a que le premier pas qui coûte! The cost is not counted on that side! Ask Herr von Werben to come in.”
François opened the door for Ottomar.
“I come at the general wish of the ladies,” said Ottomar.
For the first time he saw the Count, The sarcastic smile left his delicate lips; his bright eyes took a gloomy shade.
“I beg pardon,” said he; “I thought I should find you alone, or I would have chosen a better time—”
“To me any time is right at which I make the acquaintance of the nephew of my highly revered friend,” answered Giraldi. “Besides, the Count and I were on the point of going to join the ladies in the drawing-room; now, indeed, I must ask the Count’s permission to enjoy the honour of Herr von Werben’s society here for a few minutes more.”
“Au revoir, then!” said the Count, leaving the room, and considering as he crossed the anteroom, accompanied by François, whether he ought to be affronted or amused at Ottomar’s distant manner. He came to the conclusion that he had more cause for the latter. Ottomar, indeed, had now reached the important goal; but it was extremely probable that he never would have reached it at all if a certain other person had arrived in Berlin a few days earlier. Everybody said so; and that it was only jealousy which had brought Ottomar’s indecision and faint-heartedness to an end. Faint-heartedness, indeed! To satisfy a woman like Carla von Wallbach, a man must have very different qualifications to any that Ottomar von Werben could boast—must, in short, be a Count Golm. Well, he had kindly released the family from the anxiety which he had caused them—Fräulein Elsa, too, who had evidently trembled for her brother. They owed him some gratitude, and all of them, excepting Ottomar, would feel that—they would be eager to show him that gratitude. And if when he rose that morning he had not quite made up his mind about the other matter, he had done so now. Favoured by the lady here, whom the whole family had hastened to visit the very morning after her arrival, the remaining difficulties would vanish that opposed themselves to his entering that family as a highly desirable member—if he chose to do so! Of course, he should reserve his liberty of decision to the last moment!
The Count lingered a little at the door to follow up his agreeable train of thought to the end, and to arrange his fair wavy hair and long moustache to the best advantage, before he desired François, who was waiting respectfully, to open the door for him; no special announcement was needed as he was expected.
François obeyed with a low bow the order given him in French, and then behind the closed door, with a still lower bow, said: “Monsieur le Comte, vous parlez français—comme une vache espagnole—je vous rends cette justice, ah!” and drawing himself up the man shook his fist: “que je déteste ce genre là!”
V
It was not so much the wish of the ladies, as the request of Carla that Ottomar had acceded to when he came in search of Giraldi. Carla was burning with curiosity to become personally acquainted with the man, of whom she had heard such an “immense number of the most interesting things;” it would be dreadful to lose such a pleasure! Could not Signor Giraldi get rid of his Excellency or of the Councillor? Could not Ottomar make a diversion by going in himself, and cutting short the Catholic question, or whatever other matter of high importance they might be discussing? Ottomar was so clever! Do ask him, Elsa! He will do anything for you! Elsa could do no less than say, “Pray oblige Carla!” and even then Ottomar had sat still, muttering that he did not speak Italian, till the Baroness said with an absent smile, “That need not prevent you, my dear Ottomar;
