“True, true,” said Herr von Wallbach; “that would always remain to him.”
He passed his hand over his forehead.
“Have you seen Werben yet?”
“He will hardly come. He is more agreeably employed. Bertalda has again lent her house to the loving couple, and is dancing away the sorrows of her young widowhood. The polka is over. I will beg for a few more details from the communicative little thing, in case they may be of use to you. I shall see you perhaps tomorrow. For today, Addio.”
Giraldi turned away at the very moment that Baroness Kniebreche came up, and slipped into the ballroom, making as he passed a sign to Bertalda, whom he met on the arm of a very smart officer. Bertalda dismissed her partner, and soon overtook Giraldi, who had passed into one of the less-crowded side-rooms.
“Well!” he asked, sitting down, and inviting Bertalda by a gesture to take a place by him, “did you get the money, child!”
“Yes, and I am extremely obliged to you. I was really in great need of it. My poor brother—”
“I do not want to know what you did with the money. So long as you oblige me, that is sufficient. The important point is, are they happy at last?”
The girl coloured. “I really did my best,” she said hesitatingly.
“She never came?” asked Giraldi vehemently.
“Oh yes! I had told her so much about her brother’s ball, and—”
“Your dress—and so forth.”
“Yes, that also. But it was not needed. I saw in her eyes that she could not hold out any longer, and was delighted that I had given her such a suitable opportunity. She came, too, half an hour before the time, and found everything very charming, just as it was the first time she was there, in , and helped me to dress, and—well, one knows what it is when a girl, who is really in love, is waiting for her lover. A ring was heard. ‘Who can that be?’ said I. ‘Perhaps it is Herr von Werben,’ said Johanna, who naturally knows all about it. ‘What brings him here today? Perhaps a bouquet; he is always so attentive,’ said Johanna. She turned white and red in one moment, and trembled from head to foot, then fell upon my neck and sobbed, ‘No, no, I have sworn it;’ and before I could turn round myself, she was out of the room, without hat or cloak, down the stairs, and into the carriage, which was waiting at the door—br‑r‑r!—and she was gone. Next time she will not run away, I am certain of that.”
“Next time,” cried Giraldi, with scarcely restrained fury, “as if I could wait a hundred years. I had so set my hopes on it. Made so much of it to him. How did he take it?”
“He was frantic. I had to spend half an hour in consoling him. There never was anything like it. I really think he will do himself a mischief, if he doesn’t get the girl. It is no joke, I can tell you, to deal with them both. If I were not so fond of Werben, and so sorry for poor Ferdinanda, I would not do it for all the money in the world.”
“Did not he want to come here with you?”
“He is lying full length on my sofa and would listen to nothing. But I think he will come still. An hour or so of that sort of thing gets tiresome, here it is delightful. There is the quadrille beginning, and here comes my partner; may I—”
“Yes, go; and if you see him, tell him that I expect him tomorrow morning between and . He will know why.”
“I have been looking for you everywhere, Fräulein Bertalda.”
The black-haired young dandy carried off his charming, tastefully-dressed partner, who smilingly took his arm, blowing a kiss to Giraldi over her shoulder as she went.
Giraldi remained seated. While the stream of gaiety rolled uninterruptedly around him, he could snatch a few minutes to think over his position. It was by no means so prosperous as it had been a few days ago. Since he had had to give up all hope of the second instalment upon which he had counted at least in part. He had moreover reckoned with absolute certainty, that today the net which he had woven with such untiring perseverance would entangle Ottomar and Ferdinanda. He would have made better use of the interesting facts than Antonio had done about the rendezvous in the park. Ottomar’s and Carla’s engagement had been the consequence of that—this would have been the cause of the breaking off of that same engagement. Who could now blame Ottomar if, irritated by the girl’s absurd prudery, frantic and despairing, he returned to Carla—to Carla, who loved him as much as she was capable of loving anyone, and, frivolous as she was, would, for the mere sake of change, turn back from the new love to the old? And had not his conversation with Herr von Wallbach just now shown him that there were at any rate waverings in that quarter as to whether matters should be allowed to come to extremities? Herr von Wallbach had from the first declared that he did unfortunately share Giraldi’s “suspicion” that there had been some ugly circumstances connected with Ottomar’s continual drawing of bills of exchange, but that he would never directly interfere upon that point himself. If this suspicion should be justified—possibly at the next final settlement of the trustee business—he should of course be obliged to take notice of it; all the more in proportion to the extent to which the report might already have spread, but still he
