'Gloria Victis!' A Romance. Ossip Schubin

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ little heed of us ordinary mortals," replied Georges, glancing with a certain dreaminess in his eyes towards the youthful pair who had left the piano and were standing in the deep recess of an open balconied window.

      "Happy youth," murmured Georges.

      Yes, happy youth! They were standing there, he very pale, she blushing slightly, mute, confused, the sparkling eyes of each seeking, avoiding the other's. He has led her to the recess to show her the moon, to lay his heart at her feet, but he has forgotten the moon, and he has not yet dared to pour out his heart to her.

      The fragrant breath of the spring night was wafted towards them, fanning their youthful faces caressingly.

      All nature was thrilling beneath the first gentle May shower. The large white panicles of the elder in the little garden in front of the house gleamed brightly through the gray twilight. The small fountain murmured monotonously, its slender jet of water sparkling in the light from the drawing-room windows. They were dancing in the house opposite; like colourless phantoms the different couples glided across the lowered shades of the windows. The "Ecstasy" waltz played by a piano and a violin mingled its frivolous sobs and laughter with the modest song of the fountain and the whispers of the elder-bushes. All else was quiet in the Avenue-Labédoyère, but from the distance the restless roar of the huge city invaded the silence of night--mysterious, confused, as the demoniac restlessness of Hell may sometimes invade the divine peace of Heaven.

      "Gabrielle!" Oswald began at last with hesitation and very gently, "I have come very often of late to the Avenue-Labédoyère. Can you guess why?"

      "Why?" The blush on Gabrielle's cheek deepens. "Why?--since you were in Paris for three weeks without coming near your relatives you ought to make up for lost time," she murmured.

      "True, Gabrielle--but--do you really not know for whose sake I have come so often, so very often?"

      She was silent.

      His breath came more quickly, the colour rose to his cheek. Surely he must have divined Gabrielle's innocent secret from the young girl's tell-tale shyness, but yet at this decisive moment the words died in his throat as they must for every genuine, honest lover who would fain ask the momentous question of her whom he loves.

      "Gabrielle," he murmured hastily and somewhat indistinctly, "will you take the full heart I offer you--can you accept it, or. … " he hesitated and looked inquiringly into her lovely face. "Ella, all my happiness lies in your hands!"

      Her heart beat loudly, the lace ruffles on her bosom trembled, as she slowly lifted her eyes to his.--How handsome he was, how well the tender humility in his face became him! His happiness lies in her hands! Her eyes filled with tears. "I do not know … I … Oswald … Ossi!" she murmured disconnectedly, and then she placed her slender hand in the strong one held out to her.

      Truyn with his back to the window, noticed nothing, but the baroness who had been observing this romantic intermezzo through her eyeglass with cold-blooded curiosity, said drily to herself: "J'en suis pour mes frais;" then turning for the last time to Truyn, she said, "I have communicated to you Capriani's proposal."

      "And you are at liberty to tell him how I received it," Truyn replied stiffly.

      "J'arrangerai un peu," the baroness said as she rose, "do not disturb the young people, I will slip out on tiptoe. Adieu." And with a courteous glance around, she hurried away.

      "Well, what do you think?" exclaimed Truyn, as he returned to the drawing-room, after escorting her to the hall. "What do you think, Georges?" and sitting down beside the young man he tapped him on the knee. "Capriani sends that goose Zoë in all seriousness to ask for my daughter's hand for his son. What do you say to that?"

      "Audacious enough," said Georges shrugging his shoulders, "but what would you have--'tis a sign of the times!"

      This dry way of judging of the matter did not please Truyn at all. "Ossi!" he called.

      "What, uncle?" The young people advanced together into the room.

      "I have an interesting piece of news for you. A secret agent of the Maison Foy has made a proposal to-day for Ella's hand for Capriani, jr! What do you say to that?"

      "Ella's hand for the son of that railway Capriani!" exclaimed Oswald angrily. "Impossible! The secret agent deserves … and he made an expressive motion with his hand. His indignation became him extremely well, and Truyn's glance rested with evident admiration upon the young fellow's athletic figure as he stood with head slightly thrown back, and eyes flashing scornfully.

      "Unfortunately it was a lady--Zoë Melkweyser," the elder man explained.

      "Then she deserves at least six months of Charenton," said Oswald, "'tis incredible!" and he clinched his hand. "Your daughter, uncle, and the son of the Conte--I suppose he is a Conte--or a Marchese perhaps--Capriani! You know that little orang-outang, Georges?"

      "Of course, one meets him everywhere. He addressed me by my first name yesterday," Georges replied calmly. "Ah, my dear friends, you entirely misconceive this extraordinary proposal. For my part, I see in it no personal insult to the Countess Gabrielle, but simply a symptom of an approaching social earthquake. The triumph of the tradesman is manifest everywhere. Zola in his most prominent work has celebrated the apotheosis of the bag-man and the shop-girl; Chapu has designed the façade of the latest millinery establishment; Paris will yet see the Bourse hold its sessions in La Madeleine, and the Bon Marché will set up a branch of its trade in Notre Dame."

      "Likely enough," said Truyn with a troubled sigh, "I am only surprised that Capriani has not tried to be President of the French Republic."

      "He has not thought the position at present a favourable one for his speculations," said Georges, "but what is not, may be."

      "Ah, I am proud of my Austria," said Truyn, suddenly becoming stiff and wooden of aspect. "Such adventurers have at least no position there."

      "Do not be too proud of your Austria," rejoined Georges, "I heard something at the embassy to-day that will hardly please you. Id est, Capriani has bought Schneeburg and will be your nearest neighbour in Bohemia."

      Truyn started to his feet. "Capriani. … Schneeburg … impossible! How could Malzin bring himself to such a sacrifice!"

      "It must have gone hard with the poor fellow, God rest his soul! The night after the contract had been signed he died of apoplexy."

      "Good Heavens!" murmured Truyn, pacing restlessly to and fro. "Good Heavens!"

      "And there is another interesting piece of news," Georges went on.

      "Well?"

      "Fritz--do you remember him?"

      "Certainly. The only Malzin now left, a very amiable lad who unfortunately made an impossible marriage."

      "Yes, he married an actress, and just at the time when every one else was tired of. … "

      "Georges!" exclaimed Oswald frowning and glancing towards Gabrielle. He was evidently of the opinion that such things should not be mentioned in the presence of young girls.

      "Hm--hm," muttered Georges, "and he has accepted the post of Capriani's private secretary."

      "Frightful!" СКАЧАТЬ