But how should she see him again? she thought, as in the early morning hours she sleeplessly tossed her curly head here and there on the pillow. After her repellant manner, he would scarcely wish to come to the Avenue Wagram. Ah! why had she not simply rejoiced in him, and let herself be so happy and confidential with him!
The following day was a Sunday. When Mascha came home from church, Anna had just returned from a ride in the Bois. The Marquis de Lusignan had come for her early with his horses, and accompanied her in the Bois. Several diplomats had there joined her; they had been attentive to her. She was in the best of humors, and so hungry that she did not take time before lunch to take off her habit, but sat down to the table in it.
Anna told of her ride, of the leaps she had taken, of the enthusiasm she had excited, and that she certainly must have a new habit from Wolmerhausen. Maschenka listened with the childish, quite reverential astonishment which the elder cousin always caused in her when she told of the triumphs she had achieved in the great world.
"Did you see Bärenburg at the ball?" asked Anna, suddenly, turning to her.
"That is better," said Anna. "Young girls do not dance at such balls. At such bacchanals in honor of charity, all sorts of things are permitted. Have you a suspicion who the young lady was whom Bärenburg was so attentive to?"
"Not she, every one knows her; a new beauty whom nobody knows. It must have been one of his Austrian cousins--a very young girl, exquisitely dressed in white, with a wreath of red flowers on her head. It seems that he had a scene on her account with Orbanoff, whom he would not permit to dance with her. Evidently, it must be a girl who is very near to him, one whom he thinks a great deal of, or else he would not have interfered with the old tiger for her sake. As it seems, Orbanoff has challenged him. It is a bad season for duelling; Monteglin told me that three men of our set have already fallen in a duel since autumn. I felt quite upset, especially as they say Orbanoff is the most unconscientious man and the best pistol shot in Paris. He seems very angry with Bärenburg-- But what is the matter? You are deathly pale. Heavens; if you take the fate of every superficial acquaintance so to heart!"