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Burnamy came away from seeing the pivotal girl and her mother off on the train which they were taking that evening for Frankfort and Hombourg, and strolled back through the Weimar streets little at ease with himself.
In one case, Agatha had written to her dear Mrs. March that she and Burnamy had just that evening become engaged; Mrs. Adding, on her part owned a farther step, and announced her marriage to Mr. Kenby. Following immemorial usage in such matters Kenby had added a postscript affirming his happiness in unsparing terms, and in Agatha's letter there was an avowal of like effect from Burnamy.
You can make it right with the managers by spending a little more money than you expected to spend." Stoller started as if the word money reminded him of something. "I can take care of myself, young man. How much do I owe you?" "Nothing!" said Burnamy, with an effort for grandeur which failed him.
It was not easy, even in drama where one has everything one's own way, to prove that she could not without impiety so far interfere with the course of Providence as to prevent Miss Triscoe's coming with her father to the same hotel where Burnamy was staying.
Burnamy looked into the dining-saloon and the music-room, with the notion of trying for some naps there; then he went to his state-room. His room-mate, whoever he was to be, had not come; and he kicked off his shoes and threw off his coat and tumbled into his berth. He meant to rest awhile, and then get up and spend the night in receiving impressions.
The day after their arrival, when her father was making up for the sleep he had lost by night, she found herself alone in the little reading-room of the hotel with Burnamy for the first time, and she said: "I suppose you must have been all over Weimar by this time." "Well, I've been here, off and on, almost a month. It's an interesting place. There's a good deal of the old literary quality left."
Stoller took his toothpick out of his mouth and bowed; then he seemed to remember, and took off his hat. "You see Jews enough, here to make you feel at home?" he asked; and he added: "Well, we got some of 'em in Chicago, too, I guess. This young man" he twisted his head toward Burnamy "found you easy enough?" "It was very good of him to meet us," Mrs. March began. "We didn't expect "
Burnamy had heard her history; in fact, he had already roughed out a poem on it, which he called Europa, not after the old fable, but because it seemed to him that she expressed Europe, on one side of its civilization, and had an authorized place in its order, as she would not have had in ours.
He came back directly, saying, "No, he didn't find it." She laughed, and held both gloves up. "No wonder! I had it all the time. Thank you ever so much." "How are we going to ride back?" asked Stoller. Burnamy almost turned pale; Miss Triscoe smiled impenetrably. No one else spoke, and Mrs. March said, with placid authority, "Oh, I think the way we came, is best."
The general seems to me, capable of letting even an enemy serve his turn. Why didn't you speak, if you didn't want to go?" "Why didn't you?" "I wanted to go." "And I knew it wouldn't do to let Miss Triscoe go alone; I could see that she wished to go." "Do you think Burnamy did?" "He seemed rather indifferent. And yet he must have realized that he would be with Miss Triscoe the whole afternoon."
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