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Anastasia's wrath。 But her wrath was very quiet； and the major
assured me it made her look uncommonly pretty。 'I have told you
before；' she says； 'that I write from an inner need。 I write to
unburden my heart； to satisfy my conscience。 You call my poor
efforts coquetry； vanity； the desire to produce a sensation。 I can
prove to you that it is the quiet labour itself I care for； and not
the world's more or less flattering attention to it！' And seizing
the history of Clorinda she thrust it into the fire。 The major
stands staring； and the first thing he knows she is sweeping him a
great curtsey and bidding him farewell for ever。 Left alone and
recovering his wits； he fishes out Clorinda from the embers； and then
proceeds to thump vigorously at the lady's door。 But it never
opened； and from that day to the day three months ago when he told me
the tale； he had not beheld her again。〃
〃By Jove； it's a striking story；〃 I said。 〃But the question is； what
does it prove？〃
〃Several things。 First （what I was careful not to tell my friend）；
that Madame Blumenthal cared for him a trifle more than he supposed；
second； that he cares for her more than ever； third； that the
performance was a master…stroke； and that her allowing him to force
an interview upon her again is only a question of time。〃
〃And last？〃 I asked。
〃This is another anecdote。 The other day； Unter den Linden； I saw on
a bookseller's counter a little pink…covered romance'Sophronia；' by
Madame Blumenthal。 Glancing through it； I observed an extraordinary
abuse of asterisks； every two or three pages the narrative was
adorned with a portentous blank； crossed with a row of stars。〃
〃Well； but poor Clorinda？〃 I objected； as Niedermeyer paused。
〃Sophronia； my dear fellow； is simply Clorinda renamed by the baptism
of fire。 The fair author came back； of course； and found Clorinda
tumbled upon the floor； a good deal scorched； but； on the whole； more
frightened than hurt。 She picks her up； brushes her off； and sends
her to the printer。 Wherever the flames had burnt a hole she swings
a constellation！ But if the major is prepared to drop a penitent
tear over the ashes of Clorinda； I shall not whisper to him that the
urn is empty。〃
Even Adelina Patti's singing； for the next half…hour； but half
availed to divert me from my quickened curiosity to behold Madame
Blumenthal face to face。 As soon as the curtain had fallen again I
repaired to her box and was ushered in by Pickering with zealous
hospitality。 His glowing smile seemed to say to me； 〃Ay； look for
yourself； and adore！〃 Nothing could have been more gracious than the
lady's greeting； and I found； somewhat to my surprise； that her
prettiness lost nothing on a nearer view。 Her eyes indeed were the
finest I have ever seenthe softest； the deepest； the most intensely
responsive。 In spite of something faded and jaded in her
physiognomy； her movements； her smile； and the tone of her voice；
especially when she laughed； had an almost girlish frankness and
spontaneity。 She looked at you very hard with her radiant gray eyes；
and she indulged while she talked in a superabundance of restless；
rather affected little gestures； as if to make you take her meaning
in a certain very particular and superfine sense。 I wondered whether
after a while this might not fatigue one's attention； then meeting
her charming eyes； I said； Not for a long time。 She was very clever；
and； as Pickering had said； she spoke English admirably。 I told her；
as I took my seat beside her； of the fine things I had heard about
her from my friend； and she listened； letting me go on some time； and
exaggerate a little； with her fine eyes fixed full upon me。
〃Really？〃 she suddenly said； turning short round upon Pickering； who
stood behind us； and looking at him in the same way。 〃Is that the
way you talk about me？〃
He blushed to his eyes； and I repented。 She suddenly began to laugh；
it was then I observed how sweet her voice was in laughter。 We
talked after this of various matters； and in a little while I
complimented her on her excellent English； and asked if she had
learnt it in England。
〃Heaven forbid！〃 she cried。 〃I have never been there and wish never
to go。 I should never get on with the〃 I wondered what she was
going to say； the fogs； the smoke； or whist with sixpenny stakes？〃I
should never get on；〃 she said； 〃with the aristocracy！ I am a fierce
democratI am not ashamed of it。 I hold opinions which would make
my ancestors turn in their graves。 I was born in the lap of
feudalism。 I am a daughter of the crusaders。 But I am a
revolutionist！ I have a passion for freedommy idea of happiness is
to die on a great barricade！ It's to your great country I should
like to go。 I should like to see the wonderful spectacle of a great
people free to do everything it chooses； and yet never doing anything
wrong！〃
I replied； modestly； that； after all； both our freedom and our good
conduct had their limits； and she turned quickly about and shook her
fan with a dramatic gesture at Pickering。 〃No matter； no matter！〃
she cried； 〃I should like to see the country which produced that
wonderful young man。 I think of it as a sort of Arcadiaa land of
the golden age。 He's so delightfully innocent！ In this stupid old
Germany； if a young man is innocent he's a fool； he has no brains；
he's not a bit interesting。 But Mr。 Pickering says the freshest
things； and after I have laughed five minutes at their freshness it
suddenly occurs to me that they are very wise； and I think them over
for a week。 〃True！〃 she went on； nodding at him。 〃I call them
inspired solecisms； and I treasure them up。 Remember that when I
next laugh at you！〃
Glancing at Pickering； I was prompted to believe that he was in a
state of beatific exaltation which weighed Madame Blumenthal's smiles
and frowns in an equal balance。 They were equally hers； they were
links alike in the golden chain。 He looked at me with eyes that
seemed to say； 〃Did you ever hear such wit？ Did you ever see such
grace？〃 It seemed to me that he was but vaguely conscious of the
meaning of her words； her gestures； her voice and glance； made an
absorbing harmony。 There is something painful in the spectacle of
absolute enthralment； even to an excellent cause。 I gave no response
to Pickering's challenge； but made some remark upon the charm of
Adelina Patti's singing。 Madame Blumenthal； as became a
〃revolutionist；〃 was obliged to confess that she could see no charm
in it； it was meagre； it was trivial； it lacked soul。 〃You must know
that in music； too；〃 she said； 〃I think for myself！〃 And she began
with a great many flourishes of her fan to explain what it was she
thought。 Remarkable things； doubtless； but I cannot answer for it；
for in the midst of the explanation the curtain rose again。 〃You
can't be a great artist without a great passion！〃 Madame Blumenthal
was affirming。 Before I had time to assent Madame Patti's voice rose
wheeling like a skylark； and rained down its silver notes。 〃Ah； give
me that art；〃 I whispered； 〃and I will leave you your passion！〃 And
I departed for my own place in the orchestra。 I wondered afterwards
whether the speech had seemed rude； and inferred that it had not on
receiving a friendly nod from the lady； in the lobby； as the theatre
was emptying itself。 She was on Pickering's arm； and he was taking
her to her carriage。 Distances are short in Homburg； but the night
was rainy； and Madame Blumenthal exhibited a very pretty satin…shod
foot as a reason why； though but a penniless widow； she should not
walk home。 Pickering left us together a moment while he went to hail
the vehicle； and my companion seized the opportunity； as she said； to
beg me to be so very kind as to come and see her。 It was for a
particular reason！ It was reason enough for me； of course； I
answered； that she had given me leave。 She looked at me a moment
with that extraordinary gaze of hers which seemed so absolutely
audacious in its candour； and rejoined that I paid more compliments
than our young friend there； but that she was sure I was not half so
sincere。 〃But it's about him I want to talk；〃 she said。 〃I want to
ask you many things； I want you to tell me all about him。 He
interests me； but you see my sympathies are so intense； my
imagination is so lively； that I don't trust my own impressions。
They have misled me more than once！〃 And she gave a little tragic
shudder。
I promised to come and compare notes with her； and we bade her
farewell at her carriage door。 Pickering and I remained a while；
walking up and down the long glazed gallery of the Kursaal。 I had
not taken many steps before I became aware that I was beside a man in
the very extremity of love。 〃Isn't she wonderful？〃 he asked； with an
implicit confidence in my sympathy which it cost me some ingenuity to
elud