Three days later Harz was sitting in the window of his studio.It was the first day he had found it possible to work, and now, tired out, he stared through the dusk at the slowly lengthening shadows of the rafters.A solitary mosquito hummed, and two house sparrows, who had built beneath the roof, chirruped sleepily.Swallows darted by the window, dipping their blue wings towards the quiet water; a hush had stolen over everything.He fell asleep.
He woke, with a dim impression of some near presence.In the pale glimmer from innumerable stars, the room was full of shadowy shapes.
He lit his lantern.The flame darted forth, bickered, then slowly lit up the great room.
"Who's there?"
A rustling seemed to answer.He peered about, went to the doorway, and drew the curtain.A woman's cloaked figure shrank against the wall.Her face was buried in her hands; her arms, from which the cloak fell back, were alone visible.
"Christian?"
She ran past him, and when he had put the lantern down, was standing at the window.She turned quickly to him."Take me away from here!
Let me come with you!"
"Do you mean it?"
"You said you wouldn't give me up!"
"You know what you are doing?"
She made a motion of assent.
"But you don't grasp what this means.Things to bear that you know nothing of--hunger perhaps! Think, even hunger! And your people won't forgive--you'll lose everything."She shook her head.
"I must choose--it's one thing or the other.I can't give you up!
I should be afraid!"
"But, dear; how can you come with me? We can't be married here.""I am giving my life to you."
"You are too good for me," said Harz."The life you're going into--may be dark, like that!" he pointed to the window.
A sound of footsteps broke the hush.They could see a figure on the path below.It stopped, seemed to consider, vanished.They heard the sounds of groping hands, of a creaking door, of uncertain feet on the stairs.
Harz seized her hand.
"Quick!" he whispered; "behind this canvas!"Christian was trembling violently.She drew her hood across her face.The heavy breathing and ejaculations of the visitor were now plainly audible.
"He's there! Quick! Hide!"
She shook her head.
With a thrill at his heart, Harz kissed her, then walked towards the entrance.The curtain was pulled aside.
It was Herr Paul, holding a cigar in one hand, his hat in the other, and breathing hard.
"Pardon!" he said huskily, "your stairs are steep, and dark! mais en, fin! nous voila! I have ventured to come for a talk." His glance fell on the cloaked figure in the shadow.
"Pardon! A thousand pardons! I had no idea! I beg you to forgive this indiscretion! I may take it you resign pretensions then? You have a lady here--I have nothing more to say; I only beg a million pardons for intruding.A thousand times forgive me! Good-night!"He bowed and turned to go.Christian stepped forward, and let the hood fall from her head.
"It's I!"
Herr Paul pirouetted.
"Good God!" he stammered, dropping cigar and hat."Good God!"The lantern flared suddenly, revealing his crimson, shaking cheeks.
"You came here, at night! You, the daughter of my wife!" His eyes wandered with a dull glare round the room.
"Take care!" cried Harz: "If you say a word against her---"The two men stared at each other's eyes.And without warning, the lantern flickered and went out.Christian drew the cloak round her again.Herr Paul's voice broke the silence; he had recovered his self-possession.
"Ah! ah!" he said: "Darkness! Tant mieux! The right thing for what we have to say.Since we do not esteem each other, it is well not to see too much.""Just so," said Harz.
Christian had come close to them.Her pale face and great shining eyes could just be seen through the gloom.
Herr Paul waved his arm; the gesture was impressive, annihilating.
"This is a matter, I believe, between two men," he said, addressing Harz."Let us come to the point.I will do you the credit to suppose that you have a marriage in view.You know, perhaps, that Miss Devorell has no money till I die?""Yes."
"And I am passably young! You have money, then?""No."
"In that case, you would propose to live on air?""No, to work; it has been done before."
"It is calculated to increase hunger! You are prepared to take Miss Devorell, a young lady accustomed to luxury, into places like--this!"he peered about him, "into places that smell of paint, into the milieu of 'the people,' into the society of Bohemians--who knows? of anarchists, perhaps?"Harz clenched his hands: "I will answer no more questions.""In that event, we reach the ultimatum," said Herr Paul."Listen, Herr Outlaw! If you have not left the country by noon to-morrow, you shall be introduced to the police!"Christian uttered a cry.For a minute in the gloom the only sound heard was the short, hard breathing of the two men.
Suddenly Harz cried: "You coward, I defy you!""Coward!" Herr Paul repeated."That is indeed the last word.Look to yourself, my friend!"Stooping and fumbling on the floor, he picked up his hat.Christian had already vanished; the sound of her hurrying footsteps was distinctly audible at the top of the dark stairs.Herr Paul stood still a minute.
"Look to yourself, my dear friend!" he said in a thick voice, groping for the wall.Planting his hat askew on his head, he began slowly to descend the stairs.
XV
Nicholas Treffry sat reading the paper in his room by the light of a lamp with a green shade; on his sound foot the terrier Scruff was asleep and snoring lightly--the dog habitually came down when Greta was in bed, and remained till Mr.Treffry, always the latest member of the household, retired to rest.
Through the long window a little river of light shone out on the veranda tiles, and, flowing past, cut the garden in two.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps, a rustling of draperies;Christian, running through the window, stood before him.
Mr.Treffry dropped his paper, such a fury of passion and alarm shone in the girl's eyes.
"Chris! What is it?"
"Hateful!"
"Chris!"