The most precise
of her sayings seemed always to me to have enigmatical prolongations
vanishing somewhere beyond my reach. I am reduced to suppose that she
appreciated my attention and my silence. The attention she could see was
quite sincere, so that the silence could not be suspected of coldness.
It seemed to satisfy her. And it is to be noted that if she confided
in me it was clearly not with the expectation of receiving advice, for
which, indeed she never asked.
II
Our daily relations were interrupted at this period for something like a
fortnight. I had to absent myself unexpectedly from Geneva. On my return
I lost no time in directing my steps up the Boulevard des Philosophes.
Through the open door of the drawing-room I was annoyed to hear a
visitor holding forth steadily in an unctuous deep voice.
Mrs. Haldin's armchair by the window stood empty. On the sofa, Nathalie
Haldin raised her charming grey eyes in a glance of greeting accompanied
by the merest hint of a welcoming smile. But she made no movement. With
her strong white hands lying inverted in the lap of her mourning dress
she faced a man who presented to me a robust back covered with black
broadcloth, and well in keeping with the deep voice. He turned his head
sharply over his shoulder, but only for a moment.
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