Antonio murmured a fearful curse as he replaced his dagger in its sheath and concealed it in his coat pocket.
The other man had vanished; Antonio followed slowly along the same path, out of the park, along the Thiergartenstrasse, into the Springbrunnenstrasse, and to the house in which the man he hated lived, the windows of which were brightly lighted. A carriage drove up, an officer and some ladies in evening dress, wrapped in their shawls, got out; a second carriage followed. He, above, was now laughing and feasting, and whispering at that moment to one of the pretty girls who had just arrived what ten minutes before he might have whispered to Ferdinanda. If he could only pour into her heart the poison of jealousy which burnt in his own! If he could put some impossible barrier between her and him! If the whole affair could be betrayed to the stern signor, her father, or to the haughty capitano, his father, or to both—
“Hallo!”
A man coming along the pavement had run up against him, as he leaned with folded arms against the iron railing of the front garden, and had called out rudely.
“Scusi!” said the Italian, lifting his hat. “I beg your pardon!”
“Hallo!” repeated the man, “is it you, Antonio?”
“Ah! Signor Roller, the overseer!”
“Signor Roller! overseer! No more signors and overseers for me,” said the man, with a loud laugh, “for the present at least—till we have served out the old man; he and his nephew and the whole lot of them! If I only had them by the throat! If I could only do them some injury! I would not mind what it cost me, so it were not money! That is all gone.”
The man laughed again; he was evidently half drunk.
“I have money,” said Antonio quickly—“and—”
“We’ll have a drink then, Signor Italiano!” exclaimed the other, clapping him on the shoulder; “una bottiglia—capisci!—ha, ha! I have not quite forgotten my Italian!—Carrara marble—capisci, capisci?”
“Eccomi tutto a voi,” said the Italian, taking the man’s arm. “Where to?”
“To drink, to the devil, to the public-house!” exclaimed Roller, laughing and pointing to the red lamp over the public-house at the corner of the Springbrunnenstrasse.
VI
The three moderate-sized rooms in the upper floor of the small villa inhabited by the General, in the Springbrunnenstrasse, were got ready for the reception of the company; the larger room at the back was for the present closed. The supper was to be served there, and later it would be used as the dancing-room. Elsa went once more through the rooms to see that everything was in order. She did not usually do this, as she could quite depend upon the care and attention of the perfectly trained August; today, for the first time, he seemed to have taken his duties more easily. Or was it only her fancy? She asked herself this while she moved a few candlesticks and put them back again, and altered the arrangement of some knickknacks without being any better pleased with their appearance. “I do not know what is the matter with me today,” said Elsa.
She stepped before the looking-glass and contemplated her reflection with the greatest attention: she did not think herself looking the least pretty today. She was disappointed in her new blue dress; her hair was done much too loosely, the rosebuds were decidedly too dark, and were put in too far back; her eyes were not the least bright, and her nose was perceptibly red on the left side. “I really do not know what is the matter with me today,” said Elsa.
She sank into an armchair, laid her fan and gloves in her lap, and rested her head on her hand.
“I was looking forward so to this evening; but it is all Ottomar’s fault. How can anyone marry without love?—it happens often enough though. Wallbach certainly does not love Louise, any more than she loves him; but Ottomar, who is so tenderhearted and can be so good and dear! That detestable money! how can one man spend such a sinful amount? I can’t think how they manage it. Horses!—they always say they have sold them for so many guineas more than they gave for them; I don’t believe it; I am sure they always lose; but even that would not come to so much. I do not know; they say Wartenberg cannot manage with twenty thousand, and, that Clemda, with fifty thousand, incurs debts to that amount every year—it is incredible! What good would my poor five thousand do him, and he would have to wait, one way and another, nearly five years for it. And if I fell in love with somebody who was not noble, and lost my portion—I should not care, of course not, but I could not give him anything if I had not got it myself—to say nothing of papa, who would certainly not allow it, though he is always talking about him; but it is all about the harbour, which is never out of his head—but I am so glad that he always talks so kindly of him—so glad—”
“Good heavens, child, what are you doing?”
“What is it?” exclaimed Elsa, starting up from her dreams, and looking with a startled expression at her aunt, who, no less startled, stood before her.
“Your new tarlatane dress! You are completely crushing it.”
“Is that all?” exclaimed Elsa, drawing a deep breath.
“Oh, it is nothing to you!” exclaimed Sidonie. “You do not care about things that I care about very much, but I am getting accustomed to that by degrees!”
“Dear aunt!”
Elsa had thrown her arms round her aunt and kissed her; the kind creature wanted nothing more. “Well, well,” she said, “you careless child! You will quite spoil your pretty dress.”
She had freed herself from Elsa’s embrace, and was smoothing and arranging her darling’s dress. “There, step back a little; you look charming this evening, Elsa.”
“I don’t think so at all.”
“Like
