Holding her head very high, she started across the street; but she had
not taken three steps when the shadow detached itself and walked rapidly
out into the moonlight. She gave a sharp cry and shrank back. It was
Franz von Nettelbeck.
"You--" she stammered. "They sent you--"
"They? And why should I alarm you? Am I so formidable?" He uttered his
short harsh laugh and lifted his cap. His head was bandaged; there was a
deep scar along the outer line of his right cheek. His face was gaunt
and lined; and his shoulders sagged until he suddenly bethought himself
and flung them back with a deathless instinct.
Gisela smiled and gave him her hand with a graceful spontaneity. "The
sense of being watched always shakes the nerves a bit, and I have felt
up to nothing myself for a long time. Why did not you come up to the
window when you recognized me?"
"I was so sure of welcome! And yet as soon as I was fit to travel I came
here to see you. I intended to send in my card to-morrow. But I could
not help haunting your window to-night, and when I had the good fortune
to see you sitting there--with the moon shining on your beautiful
face--"
"My face is no longer beautiful, dear Franz--"
"You are a thousand times more beautiful than ever--"
Something else vibrated along those steel nerves, but she said briskly:
"Standing so long must have tired you.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91