“Rudolph,” she said, and dropped her eyes.
Kyria Karapolos thought proper to strike this growing heat chill with a sound commonplace, by asking him if he had much land in Austria, and what was the exact amount of his rent-roll.
“I believe it amounts to five thousand, but my steward manages everything for me. You may be assured, however, that I have quite enough for Andromache and myself,” answered Rudolph, simply.
This drove him to describe Rapoldenkirchen, and he necessarily rhapsodised over its loveliness, and the happiness that awaited Andromache in that shadowed home. And there in front of him was the clock summoning him from heaven; it already pointed cruelly to the stroke of four. He stood up and announced his hurry, shook hands with Kyria Karapolos, and held a moment Andromache’s slim fingers, looking sorrowfully into the shining March-violets he felt an irresistible impulse to kiss.
“Oh, Rudolph, I love you,” she cried, and broke down in simple passion.
He stooped hurriedly and pressed his lips to her hair. In another instant he was outside, tearing madly down the rough streets, splashing his boots and clothes in the little streams, jumping over groups of astonished babies, and racing, as if pursued by furies, past the Platea Omonia and up the Patissia Road.
There was a carriage outside the Austrian Embassy, and just as he got inside, a group of riders bore down towards it.
“Monsieur Rudolph will be down presently,” the major-domo explained, in answer to the irritable inquiries of the baron.
When Rudolph descended to the hall in his charming riding attire, the baron surveyed him with a curious and amused smile, and nodded approvingly.
“There are some young ladies for you to look after. Spare them, I entreat you,” and, in reply to Rudolph’s questioning look, added, “Young ladies, you know, are weak and susceptible, and you wear an abominably victimising air.”
Rudolph jumped into the saddle with a very apparent want of alacrity. Mademoiselle Veritassi smiled him welcome, and unconsciously he took his place beside her. Three carriages carried the elders, and the party of youthful riders nearly made the dozen. The air was blithe, the sun shone gloriously and struck the landscape lucid green. The young blood of the impressible Rudolph mounted to his head. The laughter of his companions imparted its contagion to his bereaved heart; on he rode with spring running music through his pulses, and caught by the mirth of the landscape.