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He would rush to Jordan’s house, enter the living room, his hair all dishevelled, sit down where the two sisters were working on Gertrude’s trousseau, and never utter a syllable until Gertrude would come up to him and lay her hand on his forehead. He thrust her back, but she smiled gently. At times, though none too frequently, he would take her by the arms and pull her down to him.
“Yes, Gertrude and Daniel will get married some day. But who told you about it?” “The musician himself was in a restaurant. The fellows were drinking, and he was so incautious as to raise his glass, and, somewhat after the fashion of an intoxicated drum-major, he himself drank to Gertrude’s health. For some time there was talk of his marrying you. It is much better as it is. I can’t stand artists.
Benda spoke of the political changes that might, he feared, take place because of the death of Gambetta. Jordan, who always took a warm interest in the affairs of the Fatherland, made a number of true and humane remarks about the tense feeling then existing between France and Germany, whereupon the door to Gertrude’s room opened and Gertrude herself stood on the threshold.
Eleanore looked at the church tower whose Spanish-green roof rose from the valley. After a long silence she said: “I wonder whether it will be a boy or a girl, Gertrude’s baby? Oh, a girl, of course. Some day it will be in the world, and will look at me with eyes, with real eyes. How strange that a child of yours should look at me!” “What is there strange about that?
Daniel was terrified; for he recalled instantaneously another occasion on which another woman had done precisely the same thing. His eye involuntarily fell on the mask of Zingarella. He was not conscious of the connection; there was no visible bridge between the two incidents; Gertrude’s face was too unlike that of its momentary prototype.
She had wrapped his top coat about her legs, her back was leaning against the wall, her head had sunk on her shoulder; she was asleep. She was not awakened by his coming. Beside her stood the candle, now burned down to the edge of the metal holder; it was spluttering. The light from it fell on Gertrude’s face, lighting it up irregularly and lending it a painful expression.
Nor did she appear the following evening. From that time on she avoided his presence. For one remarkable second and no longer, Daniel fixed his eyes on the shape of Gertrude’s legs. He became suddenly conscious of the fact that she was a woman and he was a man. During this second, one of the rarest of his life, he perceived the outer surface of her body, but without the enveloping clothes.
Daniel and Eleanore had turned their backs to the door, and were so absorbed in their reading that they were not aware of Gertrude’s presence. A light suddenly came into Gertrude’s heart: she became conscious of her guilt—the guilt she had been trying in vain to fathom now for so many cruel weeks. She did not have enough of the power of love; therein lay her guilt.
"That’s strange," said the lady. "We all supposed she stopped at your father’s with your cousin." A new idea entered Gertrude’s mind, and instead of replying to this last remark, she said, "I shall know her well, though, for Frank has proposed to her." "Did she accept him?" asked the lady eagerly. "Of course," was Gertrude’s haughty answer.
Gertrude was taken back to her room. After she had been in bed for a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. It was Jordan; he asked how she felt. Eleanore told him everything was all right. Until the moon had disappeared below the church roof, Eleanore sat on Gertrude’s bed, and held her mute hand in her own. Though she had thrown a cloak about her shoulders, she was cold.
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