Meantime she herself began to eat, after vainly urging Edwin to do so, and finally insisted that he must at least try some of the sweet Spanish wine, of which she only sipped a little from a slender crystal glass to drink his health. She ate in the same manner, tiny morsels which she took from her plate with the silver fork, and while busily talking, partook a little more freely of four or five vegetables and one sweet dish, but scarcely touched the meats. Edwin jestingly asked if she were a vegetarian. She requested him to explain the word, which she did not understand. "That's an excellent system," she said with a thoughtful nod, "I'm really a born vegetarian, without knowing it until to-day, and have often been laughed at in consequence. See that partridge, how sadly it thrusts its roasted beak into its own larded breast! I cannot look at it without reproaching myself for the happy creature's early death. And I was not even personally acquainted with the poor thing. But I could never have the heart to eat the chickens my mother had fed herself. She called it affectation! Dear me, my appetite in those days was far too healthy to allow me to be sentimental at the expense of my stomach. Now I have little enough and believe I could live upon bread and fruits."
As she said all this with a mixture of innocent gayety and womanly consciousness, while her manner toward her guest was one of the most perfect ease—he became more and more doubtful what to think of this mysterious creature. He had had very little intercourse with ladies who had seemed particularly worthy of notice. Face to face with this problem, which even experienced connoisseurs of women had given up, all his psychological wisdom was of no avail. But some secret feeling, which would not be stifled, told him that whatever perverted, noxious, or dangerous things there might be in this girl's character or fate, the depths of her nature were pure and true, and even the open coquetry with which she had entered into the rôle of a fairy among her enchanted princes in the cage, had a tinge of innocent fancy, and suited her as well as the ribbons and spangles of the child, who in play decks itself to represent a princess.
"You have grown so quiet," she said, paring a peach and placing half of it on his plate, "that I see there is something about me of which you do not approve,—perhaps the frankness with which I treat you like an old acquaintance. Say so openly; true, I shall not be able to change my manner, but I don't wish to impose any constraint upon you."
"I am reflecting," said he, "upon the strange chance which has brought me to this place. Is it not really like a fairy tale, that I am here in your society, while you do not even know my name, and I nothing more of you than yours?"
She raised the silver fruit knife she held in her hand, and with a roguish, mysterious expression, pressed it to her laughing lips. "Let that pass," said she, "it has all come about by natural means, without any magic or sorcery. But for that very reason, it is better to enjoy it so long as it lasts, and not spoil it by reflections and investigations."
"Will it last?" he asked gravely.
"A little longer, a few weeks perhaps, who knows? Afterwards—what will come afterwards nobody can tell. But if it seems like a fairy tale, be kind and wise enough to let it remain so, do not seek to penetrate any farther into my life, so that I shall be forced to explain the connection. There's nothing very remarkable concealed in it, at least nothing particularly pleasant or cheerful. I'm really glad that I have made your acquaintance; I was too much alone, and in my situation I must beware of all persons whom I cannot implicitly trust. Why I have confided in you, I do not know; but so it is, and I should really be grieved if you did not think well of me, or if you were deterred from coming again in consequence of my frank expressions of opinion in regard to the various things I read or experience. And you must not come too often. I do not wish to cause gossip among the people in the house; but two or three times a week about this hour, before it is time to go to the theatre—only you must not first get your dinner at home. Will you promise me that?"
She rose and held out her hand, which he hastily grasped and pressed cordially in his own.
"May the meal be blessed to you!" she said smiling. "We always said that in my parent's house, and I miss it here. Jean has too much respect for me, and the birds cannot be taught to do it. So I shall see you again soon, and you will bring Göthe's other works, of which you have spoken?"
He bowed silently, involuntarily placing his hand on his heart, and in a very puzzled mood left her.
Just as he emerged from the house, a light carriage drove up; the gentleman, who had himself held the reins threw them to the servant sitting behind and sprang out with the laughing exclamation: "Doctor, are you mad?"
"Marquard! Is it you? Have you a patient in this house?"
"Only one, who as I see, is making my efforts superfluous by taking the cure into his own hands. Or have you not just come from her?"
"From her? I don't understand you."
"Hypocrite! As if I did not see the fire in your heart burning through your vest" (Marquard was fond of quoting from Heine.) "My dear fellow, you won't find it so easy to deceive an old diagnostician of my stamp. But how the deuce did you get on her track again?"
"Let's walk a few steps down the street," said Edwin coloring. "The windows are open, every word can be heard up stairs."
He seized the doctor by the arm and drew him away, relating in an undertone the story of the lost book-mark, and leaving it in doubt whether the accident had brought him here to-day for the first time. "And you," he hastily concluded. "How did you discover that our neighbor in the box at the theatre lived here?"
"By means of the vein I laudably struck," declaimed the doctor. "The renewal of my acquaintance with this fair Sphinx is only two days old, and I fear it will not long survive the third. Day before yesterday, while visiting a patient in one of the opposite houses, I was suddenly summoned from his bedside; a boy was dangerously ill; I must come as soon as possible to the very house before which we just met. How I scaled the staircase and entered the second story rooms on the wings of my professional duty—a doctor is an enviable person, Edwin! All doors open to him, while to you ordinary mortals they only unclose when you knock as honest finders of property, or—rascally seekers. Imagine my joyful surprise, when the fair enigma who had so icily dismissed me in the box, now hastily approached and in the confusion of terror claimed my assistance.
"Was she ill?"
"Not she herself But she has a lad in her service, a ridiculous little fellow, who had already amused me greatly when he summoned me from the other side of the street. The mysterious stranger—who at any rate seems to have a kind heart, especially for minors—had allowed her footman to invite a younger brother to dine with him, and the two precocious men of the world had consumed a bottle of Cape wine and smoked some horrible cigars. The striped waistcoat's stomach, already hardened to such sins, endured the orgy without injury, while the hopeful Jean junior lay like a broken lily on his brother's bed, and had frightened the young lady, who had not the least suspicion of the cause—the young tipplers had carefully put the bottle away—almost to death. Now I could not possibly do Jean—who was leering significantly at me, and had taken me into his confidence on the way—the injury of making light of the case. Besides, successful cures of difficult cases are a greater recommendation to a young physician, than the treatment of the sickness that follows a drunken spree. So I took the pallid scamp to his unsuspicious parents in my own carriage, and yesterday reported his rapid progress toward convalescence. I'm now just in the act of giving the second bulletin; but as, when I left him, the patient was eating pears and dumplings with the best possible appetite, and his noble patroness intends to visit him herself, you can understand that I shall not be able to pay many more visits to the fairy castle; for which I am very sorry—especially on your account, since according to promise—"
"I have just told you—"
"That you're a Cato or a Plato, whichever you prefer. Meantime—even without having felt your pulse—I see by your whole appearance, that you're on the direct road to remain so no longer. My best blessing on your conversion, old boy, and better luck than has fallen to me."