How wearily she had striven to prevent
letting a tear fall upon the tinted paper, what heroic courage she had
expended in finding sportive turns of speech, subdued, even mirthful
expressions, could not be perceived in the little missive. Robert read
it with distrust, but, in spite of the most cautious scrutiny, he did not
find a single word whose vehemence could disquiet him, not a single
letter which was nervously emphasized or written, or betrayed a trembling
hand, so he accepted the invitation.
Frau von der Lehde made no mistake. Her self-control did not desert her
a moment. She received Robert calmly and affectionately, as though
nothing had occurred between them, the dinner passed delightfully in
easy, gay conversation about all sorts of indifferent matters, and when
he was leaving she held out both hands and said, looking directly into
his eyes:
"Tuesday, at least, shall again be mine in future, shall it not?"
He kissed her hand, touched by such unselfish, faithful devotion.
It was a strange relation which, from that time, existed unshadowed
between these two for more than a decade.
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