see this belongs to Miss Dufrayer," he said bluntly, and, as his companion's answer was only a careless: "Yes, Louise forgot it the last time she was here," he went on without delay: "I should like to know Miss Dufrayer, Madeleine. Do you think you could introduce me to her?"
Madeleine, who was in the act of taking down a book from her hanging shelves, turned and looked at him. He was still red in the face, from the exertion of stooping.
"Introduce you to Louise?" she queried. "Why?—why do you want to be introduced to her?"
"Oh, I don't know. For no particular reason."
She sat down at the table, opened the book, and turned the leaves.
"Oh well, I daresay I can, if you wish it, and an opportunity occurs—if you're with me some day when I meet her.—Now shall we go on with the JUNGFRAU? We were beginning the third act, I think. Here it is:
Wir waren Herzensbruder, Waffenfreunde,
Fur eine Sache hoben wir den Arm!"
But Maurice did not take the book she handed him across the table.
"Won't you give me a more definite promise than that?"
Madeleine sat back in her chair, and, folding her arms, looked thoughtfully at him.
Only a momentary silence followed his words, but, in this fraction of time, a series of impressions swept through her brain with the continuity of a bird's flight. It was clear to her at once, that what prompted his insistence was not an ordinary curiosity, or a passing whim; in a flash, she understood that here, below the surface, something was at work in him, the existence of which she had not even suspected. She was more than annoyed with herself at her own foolish obtuseness; she had had these experiences before, and then, as now, the object of her interest had invariably been turned aside by the first pretty, silly face that came his way. The main difference was that she had been more than ordinarily drawn to Maurice Guest; and, believing it impossible, in this case, for anyone else to be sharing the field with her, she had over-indulged the hope that he sought her out for herself alone.
She endeavoured to learn more. But this time Maurice was on his guard, and the questions she put, straight though they were, only elicited the response that he had seen Miss Dufrayer shortly after arriving, and had been much struck by her.
Madeleine's brain travelled rapidly backwards. "But if I remember rightly, Maurice, we met Louise one day in the SCHEIBENHOLZ, the first time we went for a walk together. Why didn't you stop then, and be introduced to her, if you were so anxious?"
"Why do we ever do foolish things?"
Her amazement was so patent that he made uncomfortable apology for himself. "It is ridiculous, I know," he said and coloured. "And it must seem doubly so to you. But that I should want to know her—there's nothing strange in that, is there? You, too, Madeleine, have surely admired people sometimes—some one, say, who has done a fine thing—and have felt that you must know them personally, at all costs?"
"Perhaps I have. But romantic feelings of that kind are sure to end in smoke. As a rule they've no foundation but our own wishes.—If you take my advice, Maurice, you will be content to admire Louise at a distance. Think her as pretty as you like, and imagine her to be all that's sweet and charming: but never mind about knowing her."
"But why on earth not?"
"Why, nothing will come of it."
"That depends on what you mean by nothing."
"You don't understand. I must be plainer.—Do sit down, and don't fidget so.—How long have you been here now? Nearly two months. Well, that's long enough to know something of what's going on. You must have both seen and heard that Louise has no eyes for anyone but a certain person, to put it bluntly, that she is wrapped up in Schilsky. This has been going on for over a year now, and she seems to grow more infatuated every day. When she first came to Leipzig, we were friends; she lived in this neighbourhood, and I was able to be of service to her. Now, weeks go by and I don't see her; she has broken with every one—for Louise is not a girl to do things by halves.—Introduce you? Of course I can. But suppose it done, with all pomp and ceremony, what will you get from it? I know Louise. A word or two, if her ladyship is in the mood; if not, you will be so much thin air for her. And after that, a nod if she meets you in the street—and that's all."
"It's enough."
"You're easily satisfied.—But tell me, honestly now, Maurice, what possible good can that do you?"
He moved aimlessly about the room. "Good? Must one always look for good in everything?—I can see quite well that from your point of view the whole thing must seem absurd. I expect nothing whatever from it, but I'm going to know her, and that's all about it."
Still in the same position, with folded arms, Madeleine observed him with unblinking eyes.
"And you won't bear me a grudge, if things go badly?—I mean if you are disappointed, or dissatisfied?"
He made a gesture of impatience.
"Yes, but I know Louise, and you don't."
He had picked up from the writing-table the photograph of a curate, and he stared at it as if he had no thought but to let the mild features stamp themselves on his mind. Madeleine's eyes continued to bore him through. At last, out of a silence, she said slowly: "Of course I can introduce you—it's done with a wave of the hand. But, as your friend, I think it only right to warn you what you must expect. For I can see you don't understand in the least, and are laying up a big disappointment for yourself. However, you shall have your way—if only to show you that I am right."
"Thanks, Madeleine—thanks awfully."
They settled down to read Schiller. But Maurice made one slip after another, and she let them pass uncorrected. She was annoyed with herself afresh, for having made too much of the matter, for having blown it up to a fictitious importance, when the wiser way would have been to treat it as of no consequence at all.
The next afternoon he arrived, with expectation in his face; but not on this day, nor the next, nor the next again, did she bring the subject up between them. On the fourth, however, as he was leaving, she said abruptly: "You must have patience for a little, Maurice. Louise has gone to Dresden."
"That's why the blinds are down," he exclaimed without thinking, then coloured furiously at his own words, and, to smooth them over, asked: "Why has she gone? For how long?"
But Madeleine caught him up. "SIEH DA, some one has been playing sentinel!" she said in raillery; and it seemed to him that every fold in his brain was laid bare to her, before she answered: "She has gone for a week or ten days—to visit some friends who are staying there."
He nodded, and was about to open the door, when she added: "But set your mind at rest—HE is here."
Maurice looked sharply up; but a minute or two passed before the true meaning of her words broke on him. He coloured again—a mortifying habit he had not outgrown, and one which seemed to affect him more in the presence of Madeleine than of anyone else.
"It's hardly a thing to joke about."
"Joke!—who is joking?" she asked, and raised her eyebrows so high that her forehead was filled with wrinkles. "Nothing was further from my thoughts."
