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Updated: May 25, 2025
Once more Christophe saw her sad face disappear into the night; once more he saw her eyes for a moment just as he had seen them for the last time looking at him through the carriage window. The enigma of France was once more set before him more insistently than ever. Christophe never tired of asking Frau Reinhart about the country which she pretended to know so well.
If Lili Reinhart's natural carelessness took the ascendant for a moment, or if she began to laugh and talk wildly, suddenly a look from her husband or Christophe would stop her dead; the letter would cross her mind; she would stop in the middle of a familiar gesture and grow uneasy. Christophe and Reinhart were in the same plight. And each of them was thinking: "Do the others know?"
His daughter says that when the blow came, that day of the panic, when Reinhart jammed the stock out of sight and scuttled her father's bankers and partners in the road, the Wilsons of Baltimore, she had a frightful struggle to keep her father from going insane.
A talent of the first order, however, only wants to be set thinking, as a single word will often make it. Mr. Reinhart at any rate, triumphs; whether there be life or not in the little tale itself, there is unmistakable life in his version of it. Mr. Reinhart deals in that element purely with admirable frankness and vigor. He is not so much suggestive as positively and sharply representative.
That was always followed by a pretty little love scene, during which my mother would express her regret that he was deprived of a pleasure; and he always answered that the only pleasure he had was to be with her. Nor do I believe that state of things would ever have changed but for Miss Reinhart.
"My lady," she said, "do pray be calm. You know how ill even the least emotion makes you, and Miss Laura is so frightened when you are ill!" The sweet face grew whiter. "I will remember," she said. Then she repeated the question, but my intelligence had grown in the last few minutes. "Papa is out in the grounds," I replied, "and I saw him speaking to Miss Reinhart."
Then I noticed that he would say to her: "Come out for a few minutes, Miss Reinhart, out on the terrace here, and let us have some fresh air. If you will permit me, I will smoke my cigar. Will you come, Laura?"
Ah, that was something like a reason for studying; I would learn lessons all day and all night to insure her going. It must be a matter of years, but if by constant application I could shorten the time, even by one year, that was much. Then Emma gave me much sensible advice; above all, never to speak to mamma about Miss Reinhart.
Repeated to him, it bore quite a different aspect; it was an insolent rebellion against proper authority, and my father resented it very much. "Unless you had told me yourself, I would not have believed it, Miss Reinhart." "It is quite true," she replied, calmly, looking, in her exquisite morning dress, calm, sweet and unruffled as an angel.
Again his voice rang out, "What brings you here? Do you come to plead again for that dastard Reinhart after the warning I gave you?" I clenched both hands until I felt the nails cut the flesh of my palms. I loved Bob Brownley.
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