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Updated: July 7, 2025
"And can you get into the bedroom from this hiding-place?" "The picture of St. George is on hinges, and can be opened like a door." "So that you can at any time enter Timéa's room from that passage?" asked Michael, with an uncontrollable shudder. Athalie smiled proudly. "I never needed to creep in to her by secret routes.
Looking from her bed at the clean fire that was burning, she still saw, as she had down there, Leon standing up with one hand behind his cane, and with the other holding Athalie, who was quietly sucking a piece of ice.
Michael turned over his papers with confusion; he could not find what he sought naturally for he knew not what to look for. At last he shut his desk without taking anything out. Again he was met by the hateful smile which from time to time played round Athalie's lips. "Do you wish for anything?" said Athalie, in answer to his inquiring looks. Michael remained silent. "Do you wish me to speak?"
The hair was then dressed very high, so that Timéa required assistance. "You don't know how; Athalie will be so good." Timéa spoke quite simply, but the major shuddered at the pallor which overflowed Athalie's face at the words: he remembered how Athalie had once said to Timéa, "Come and put on my bridal veil!" And perhaps even she had not then thought what venom lay in the words.
This time she did not offer him her white cheek to be kissed. Timar hastened to his room, on pretense of laying aside his wraps. If only there was some reason for this embarrassment! And another sign had not escaped him Athalie's expression. In her eyes shone the fire of a diabolical triumph, the light of a malicious joy. How if Athalie knew something? At table he met the two women again.
When they came up again, Athalie threw herself on the bier and prayed to be buried too: luckily Herr Johann Fabula was there, and he raised the beautiful lady from the ground, bore her back in his arms to the daylight, and explained to the astonished crowd how much the young lady had loved the dear deceased, who had been a second father to her.
And after Timéa had drawn them off, and held the snow-white foot, more perfect than a sculptor's ideal, in her lap, she bent and pressed a kiss on it. Athalie permitted that too. Lieutenant Katschuka went through the café and found Timar there gulping down a cup of black coffee.
It's from Racine's 'Athalie, and the wicked queen has had this terrible dream of her mother Jezabel. It's French, but I'll make you see."
Athalie put on her mourning-dress, the only one left to her, and went to find some one. There were only her mother and Timéa to look for. They would probably be in the kitchen. Both had long been up and dressed. Frau Sophie was as round as a tub.
Timéa stood as if petrified, and let her folded hands fall into her lap. She did not blush or become paler. There was no name for what she felt. Perhaps Athalie knew that this cruel jest was not calculated to enhance her charms, and tried to lessen its effect. "Come, Timéa," she said; "I only waited for you. Come and put on my veil." The bridal veil!
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