She had not, it would seem, expected much from life; and
when much was given to her she received it without misgivings. She
was young and light-hearted, and she lived in a reckless age.
She was not surprised when Charles failed to return. The chaise
that was to carry them to Zoppot stood in the Frauengasse on the
shady side of the street in the heat of the afternoon for more than
an hour. Then she ran out and told the driver to go back to his
stables.
"One cannot go for a honeymoon alone," she explained airily to her
father, who was peevish and restless, standing by the window with
the air of one who expects without knowing what to expect. "It is,
at all events, quite clear that there is nothing for me to do but
wait."
She made light of it, and laughed at her father's grave face.
Mathilde said nothing, but her silence seemed to suggest that this
was no more than she had foretold, or at all events foreseen. She
was too proud or too generous to put her thoughts into words. For
pride and generosity are often confounded. There are many who give
because they are too proud to withhold.
Desiree got her needlework and sat by the open window awaiting
Charles. She could hear the continuous clatter of carts on the
quay, and the voices of the men working in the great granaries
across the river.
The whole city seemed to be astir, and men hurried to and fro in
even the quiet Frauengasse, while the clatter of cavalry and the
heavy rumble of gun carriages could be heard over the roofs from the
direction of the Langenmarkt.
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