His manner was kind and confidential and easy--inviting in response that which the confidential always expect, a return in kind. It is either hit or miss with such people; and de Casimir missed. He saw Desiree draw back. She was young, and of that clear fairness of skin which seems to let the thoughts out through the face so that any can read them. That which her face expressed at that moment was a clear and definite refusal to confide anything whatsoever in this little dark man who stood in front of her, looking into her eyes with a deferential and sympathetic glance.
“I know for certain,” he said, “that Charles was well two days ago, and that he is highly thought of in high quarters. I can tell you that, at all events.”
“Thank you,” said Desiree. She had nothing against de Casimir. She had only seen him once or twice, and she knew him to be Charles's friend, and in some sense his patron. For de Casimir held a high position in Dantzig. She was quite ready to like him since Charles liked him; but she intended to do so at her own range. It is always the woman who measures the distance.
Desiree made a little movement as if to continue on her way; and de Casimir instantly stood aside, with a bow.
“Shall I find your father at home?” he asked.
“I think so. He was at home when I left,” she answered, responding to his salute with a friendly nod.
De Casimir watched her go and stood for a moment in reflection, as if going over in his mind that which had passed between them.
“I must try the other one,” he said to himself as he turned down the Pfaffengasse. He continued his way at a leisurely pace. At the corner of the Frauengasse he lingered in the shadow of the linden trees, and while so doing saw Antoine Sebastian quit the door of No. 36, going in the opposite direction towards the river, and pass out through the Frauenthor on to the quay.
He made a little gesture of annoyance on being told by the servant that Sebastian was out. After a moment's reflection, he seemed to make up his mind to ignore the conventionalities.
“It is merely,” he said in his friendly and confidential manner to the servant, in perfect German, “that I have news from Monsieur Darragon, the husband of Mademoiselle Desiree. Madame is out--you say. Well, then, what is to be done?”