"When did you get to know her?" I asked. He did not really know her. It
dated from an evening in autumn. It was late; they were three jovial
souls together, they came out late from the Grand, and met this being
going along alone past Cammermeyer's, and they addressed her. At first
she answered rebuffingly; but one of the jovial spirits, a man who
neither feared fire nor water, asked her right to her face if he might
not have the civilized enjoyment of accompanying her home? He would, by
the Lord, not hurt a hair on her head, as the saying goes--only go with
her to her door, reassure himself that she reached home in safety,
otherwise he could not rest all night. He talked incessantly as they
went along, hit upon one thing or another, dubbed himself Waldemar
Atterdag, and represented himself as a photographer. At last she was
obliged to laugh at this merry soul who refused to be rebuffed by her
coldness, and it finally ended by his going with her.
"Indeed, did it? and what came of it?" I inquired; and I held my breath
for his reply.
"Came of it? Oh, stop there; there is the lady in question."
We both kept silent a moment, both "Missy" and I.
"Well, I'm hanged, was that 'the Duke'? So that's what he looks like,"
he added, reflectively. "Well, if she is in contact with that fellow;
well, then, I wouldn't like to answer for her."
I still kept silent. Yes, of course "the Duke" would make the pace with
her. Well, what odds? How did it concern me? I bade her good-day with
all her wiles: a good-day I bade her; and I tried to console myself by
thinking the worst thoughts about her; took a downright pleasure in
dragging her through the mire. It only annoyed me to think that I had
doffed my hat to the pair, if I really had done so. Why should I raise
my hat to such people? I did not care for her any longer, certainly
not; she was no longer in the very slightest degree lovely to me; she
had fallen off. Ah, the devil knows how soiled I found her! It might
easily have been the case that it was only me she looked at; I was not
in the least astounded at that; it might be regret that began to stir
in her. But that was no reason for me to go and lower myself and
salute, like a fool, especially when she had become so seriously
besmirched of late. "The Duke" was welcome to her; I wish him joy! The
day might come when I would just take into my head to pass her
haughtily by without glancing once towards her. Ay, it might happen
that I would venture to do this, even if she were to gaze straight into
my eyes, and have a blood-red gown on into the bargain. It might very
easily happen! Ha, ha! that would be a triumph. If I knew myself
aright, I was quite capable of completing my drama during the course of
the night, and, before eight days had flown, I would have brought this
young woman to her knees--with all her charms, ha, ha! with all her
charms....
"Good-bye," I muttered, shortly; but "Missy" held me back. He queried:
"But what do you do all day now?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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