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The investigations of the various boards, including that of the fire department, the cross-examination, the taking of evidence, the coming to a decision—all this was over. The cause of the fire remained unexplained; a guilty party could not be found. Philippina Schimmelweis had sworn that the fire had already started when she reached the attic.
The gate must not have been closed, for just then Philippina came in. She had come over with Daniel, but had remained outside on the street. She could not wait any longer; she was too anxious to see the consequences of her betrayal. She looked around with affected embarrassment. Was it merely the sight of her that aroused Jason Philip’s wrath?
“Be still, Uncle, nothing is going to happen. It is all a huge joke,” said Dorothea with feigned good humour and kind intentions. She walked to the door slowly, looking back every now and then with a smile on her face. It was early in the morning when Dorothea rang Daniel’s bell. Philippina opened the door, but she did not wish to let Dorothea in.
“The mask, the mask,” whispered Eleanore anxiously, and pointed over to the corner from which the mask of Zingarella, with the dim light falling on it, shone forth like the weirdly beautiful face of a spectre. Philippina stood before the door, and listened to what they were saying. She had caught a rat, killed it, and laid the cadaver in the door.
And she felt in Philippina’s presence what she felt in the presence of no one else—a sense of shame at her own condition. Philippina, in fact, saw something indecent in Gertrude’s pregnancy; when she talked to her she always held her head up and looked into space; her action was quite conspicuous.
It seems to me that your American don’t exactly hail from Givetown. I’ve been told that he ain’t so damn rich after all. When are you goin’ to meet him again, your lover?” “To-morrow evening, between six and seven. Oh, I am so glad, so glad, Philippina. He is so young.” “Yes, young! That’s a lot, ain’t it?” murmured Philippina contemptuously.
She started, looked at him thoughtfully, and smiled a heady smile. Daniel was anxious, apprehensive. “I am related to Daniel, and we must address each other by the familiar Du,” said Philippina to Dorothea. Daniel’s wife agreed. Every morning when Dorothea came into the kitchen Philippina would say: “Well, what did you dream?”
From time to time old Jordan rapped on the wall to have Philippina come up and tell him how things were going. It must have been about four o’clock in the morning; the gloomy, grey stones in the walls of the court yard were already being covered with rosy tints from the East.
It may have been only little things that she bought, a manikin of porcelain with a tile hat and an umbrella, or a pagoda with a wag-head, or even merely a mouse-trap—but they all cost money. Philippina would be called in; Philippina was to admire the purchases. And she would say with apparent delight: “Now ain’t that sweet!” Or, “Now that’s fine; we needed a mouse-trap so bad!
Philippina ceased snoring, woke up as if she had been struck in the face by the rays of a magic lantern, opened her eyes, and looked at Dorothea with a speechless threat. Not a muscle of her face moved. Dorothea collected her thoughts instantly.
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