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Updated: June 9, 2025
Wishing first to settle this matter of the deed, he put off going down to Mildenham; but "not trusting those two scoundrels a yard" for he never failed to bracket Rosek and Fiorsen he insisted that the baby should not go out without two attendants, and that Gyp should not go out alone.
While he was imbibing she would sit in a remote corner of the garden, and read a novel in the Reclam edition, as a daily German lesson. She was sitting there, the morning after the "at-home" at the Baroness von Maisen's, reading Turgenev's "Torrents of Spring," when she saw Count Rosek sauntering down the path with a glass of the waters in his hand.
She had "gone to put on nothing," Rosek informed them. He took Gyp the round of his treasures, scarabs, Rops drawings, death-masks, Chinese pictures, and queer old flutes, with an air of displaying them for the first time to one who could truly appreciate. And she kept thinking of that saying, "Une technique merveilleuse."
Again Rosek shrugged his shoulders. "He is rabid a rabid man of his class is dangerous. A lot of money will be wanted, I should think some blood, perhaps." He moved swiftly to her, and said very low: "Gyp, it is a year since I told you of this. You did not believe me then. I told you, too, that I loved you. I love you more, now, a hundred times! Don't move! I am going up to Gustav."
Rosek smiled. "My dear, that is all very well, but friendships are not finished like that. Moreover, you owe me a thousand pounds." "Well, I will pay it." Rosek's eyebrows mounted. "I will. Gyp will lend it to me." "Oh! Is Gyp so fond of you as that? I thought she only loved her music-lessons." Crouching forward with his knees drawn up, Fiorsen hissed out: "Don't talk of Gyp! Get out of this!
She remained sitting at the piano, playing over and over a single passage, without heeding what it was. So far, they had seen nothing of Rosek at the little house. She wondered if Fiorsen had passed on to him her remark, though if he had, he would surely say he hadn't; she had learned that her husband spoke the truth when convenient, not when it caused him pain.
Rosek lit a cigarette but did not sit down. He struck even Fiorsen by his unsmiling pallor. "You had better look out for Mr. Wagge, Gustav; he came to me yesterday. He has no music in his soul." Fiorsen sat up. "Satan take Mr. Wagge! What can he do?" "I am not a lawyer, but I imagine he can be unpleasant the girl is young." Fiorsen glared at him, and said: "Why did you throw me that cursed girl?"
And she did not dare to tell her father. He would what would he not do? But she was always on her guard, knowing that Rosek would not forgive her for that dart of ridicule. His insinuations about Daphne Wing she put out of mind, as she never could have if she had loved Fiorsen. She set up for herself the idol of pride, and became its faithful worshipper.
And, sitting on the bed, she gave way utterly. Gyp stood still. Nemesis for her happiness? That vengeful wretch, Rosek! This was his doing. And she said: "Oh, Betty, she must be crying!" A fresh outburst of moans was the only answer. Gyp remembered suddenly what the lawyer had said over a year ago it had struck her with terror at the time. In law, Fiorsen owned and could claim her child.
Rosek answered, a little too steadily: "I did not, my friend." "What! You did. What was your game? You never do anything without a game. You know you did. Come; what was your game?" "You like pleasure, I believe." Fiorsen said violently: "Look here: I have done with your friendship you are no friend to me. I have never really known you, and I should not wish to. It is finished. Leave me in peace."
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