"What is it, Dmitry?" he said anxiously. "Madame is not ill, is she? Tell me--"
"Not ill--oh no!" the servant said, only Paul must know Madame was of a delicacy at times in the cold weather, and had to be careful of herself. He added, too, that it would be wiser if Paul would lunch early before they started, because, as he explained, it was not for the people of the hotel to know he was there, and how else could he eat?
All of which advice was followed, and at one o'clock they landed at Lucerne, and Paul walked quickly towards his goal, Dmitry in front to see that the way was clear. Yes--there was no one about for the moment, and like ghosts they glided through the little terrace door, and Paul went into the room by the window, while Dmitry held the heavy curtains, and then disappeared.
It was empty--the fact struck a chill note, in spite of the great bowls of flowers and the exquisite scent. His tiger was there, and the velvet pillows of old. All was warm and luxurious, as befitting the shrine of his goddess and Queen. Only he was alone--alone with his thoughts.
An incredible excitement swept through him, his heart beat to suffocation in the longing for her to come. Was it possible--was it true that soon she would be in his arms? A whole world of privation and empty hours to make up for in their first kiss.
Then from behind the screen of the door to her room she came at last--a stately figure in long black draperies, her face startlingly white, and her head wrapped in a mist of black veil. But who can tell of the note of gladness and welcome she put into the two words, "My Paul!"?
And who can tell of the passionate joy of their long, tender embrace, or of their talk of each one's impossible night? His lady, too, had not slept, it appeared. She had cried, she said, and fought with her pillow, and been so wicked to Anna that the good creature had wept. She had torn her fine night raiment, and bitten a handkerchief through! But now he had come, and her soul was at rest. What wonder, when all this was said in his ear with soft, broken sighs and kisses divine, that Paul should feel like a god in his pride!
Then he held her at arms'-length and looked at her face. Yes, it was very pale indeed, and the violet shadows lay under her black lashes. Had she suffered, his darling--was she ill? But no, the fire in her strange eyes gave no look of ill-health.