Suddenly he rose and went to the window. His action caused a brief
silence, and all heard the clatter of a horse's feet and the quick
rattle of a sword against spur and buckle.
After a glance he came back into the room.
"Excuse me," he said, with a bow towards Mathilde. "It is, I think,
a messenger for me."
And he hurried downstairs. He did not return at once, and soon the
conversation became general again.
"You," said the Grafin, touching Desiree's arm with her fan, "you,
who are now his wife, must be dying to know what has called him
away. Do not consider the 'convenances,' my child."
Desiree, thus admonished, followed Charles. She had not been aware
of this consuming curiosity until it was suggested to her.
She found Charles standing at the open door. He thrust a letter
into his pocket as she approached him, and turned towards her the
face that she had seen for a moment when he drew her back at the
corner of the Pfaffengasse to allow the Emperor's carriage to pass
on its way. It was the white, half-stupefied face of one who has
for an instant seen a vision of things not earthly.
"I have been sent for by the . . . I am wanted at head-quarters,"
he said vaguely. "I shall not be long . . ."
He took his shako, looked at her with an odd attempt to simulate
cheerfulness, kissed her fingers and hurried out into the street.
CHAPTER III. FATE.
We pass; the path that each man trod
Is dim; or will be dim, with weeds.
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