VIII
Ottomar had been fully occupied in making up for lost time. He went from one to the other, here whispering a compliment, there accompanying a shake of the hand with a jest, this evening more than ever overflowing with life and spirits and good-humour, the accomplished favourite of the Graces, and king of society. So said Baroness Kniebreche to Carla, who had just appeared in the drawing-room, with her brother and sister-in-law, and was immediately taken possession of by the old lady, one of whose “mignons” she was. “Look, my dear Carla! he is just speaking to Helene Leisewitz—how happy the poor thing is! It is not often that she is so singled out. Mon Dieu! he is positively paying attentions to her. Do look!”
Carla was in despair. She could see nothing without her eyeglass, but did not like to make use of it while with the Baroness whose pince-nez, with glasses as big as thalers, were fixed to her almost sightless eyes. Besides the old lady screamed so loud that she might be heard half across the room, and she expected to be answered equally loudly, being quite deaf of the right ear and almost deaf of the left.
“Ah! at last he has fluttered off to Emilie Fischbach—à la bonne heure! She has been making eyes at him for ever so long, charming little creature! She really grows more charming every day. And how she chatters and wriggles. A little too much simplicity, but she will improve. You will have another rival next season, my dear Carla. What, going already! No, no, my dear, not so fast; I have not spoken to you for ages. You owe me a world of confidences. Do you think that an old woman like me is to go about in society as ignorant as a newborn baby, while the whole world is au courant? Out with it! When is the betrothal to be? Not speak so loud? Why I am hardly speaking above a whisper—this ear, please! It is not yet settled! Don’t be angry with me, my dear Carla; but what in the world are you thinking about? Do you imagine an Ottomar von Werben is always to be had?”
“Do you want me, Baroness?” said Ottomar, who had heard his name.
“I want you to sit down by me here, on my left side, you faithless butterfly!”
“Is there such a thing as a faithful butterfly, Baroness?”
“Now none of your jokes; I am a serious, practical old woman, and want you both—why what has become of Carla?”
Carla had seized the opportunity, and, rising with an expression of delighted astonishment on her animated countenance, had hastened towards Count Golm, whom, by a hasty glance through her eyeglass, she had perceived at the other side of the room engaged in conversation with Countess Fischbach, and who now turned towards her. She was determined to punish Ottomar for the neglect with which he had in the most open manner treated her. Ottomar looked after her with gloomy eyes, and his glance did not clear while the old Baroness took him to task, as she expressed it. “Yes, yes, my dear Ottomar, it is only the truth; and from whom should you hear it if not from an old woman, who knows the world thoroughly and has known you ever since you were born? I have seen other affairs come to nothing that looked quite as promising as yours. Everything has its limits, even the patience of society. If this patience is tried too long, society says nothing will come of it; and when society has said so for a certain length of time nothing does come of it, simply because it has said so. People do everything as society decides; are betrothed, marry, separate, fall in love, fall out of it again, fall in love a second and a third time, fight duels, shoot their friends, shoot themselves—society is always right.”
“And supposing society should be right in our case?”
The old lady let her pince-nez fall in horror: “Mais vous êtes fou, monsieur, positivement fou!”
She seized her large black fan, and fanned herself violently and noisily; replaced her pince-nez, cast a sharp glance at Ottomar, who stared moodily before him, and said, while she motioned to him to put his ear near her mouth—
“Now listen patiently, like a good child, for you are children, both of you; you who sit here looking like an ensign who has had twenty marks too few at his examination for lieutenant; and Carla who is flirting over there with Count Golm, on purpose to provoke you. Don’t play with fire. You might burn your fingers badly. If the affair comes to nothing it will be the greatest scandal of the season. And now go and make your peace with Carla, and tell her from me that I have known the Counts Golm for three generations, and that the present one—well, I had rather tell her myself.”
She rapped Ottomar on the knuckles with her fan. Ottomar rose quickly and moved a few paces towards Carla, in the full conviction that his approach was all that was necessary to appease her, as she had watched the whole progress of his conversation with the old lady, and now turned her eyeglass on him. But Carla let him come a few steps nearer and then turned completely round towards the Count, with the defiant movement of an actress who wishes to give the audience an opportunity of admiring the back of her dress. Ottomar started back and turned on his heel, murmuring between his teeth: “A formal provocation! Thank heaven!”
But when he now again mixed with the company, laughing and jesting even more gaily than before, in his heart was dark night. What the Baroness had murmured in his ear he had said to himself over and over again as he hastened home through the Thiergarten, and the mighty trees over his head could as
