"That will do, Clementina, my head aches badly!" said Henrietta. She
wished to rid herself of this uncalled-for gabble, in order that she
might devote herself to her own thoughts.
And what thoughts! She had had no idea that such things could be. How
was it possible that two men who called themselves friends, could ruin
one another thus in cold blood? How was it possible that a man could
enter the house of an affectionate host as a welcome guest in the
evening, and by next morning leave him not an inch of land on which to
put his foot, or a roof to cover his head! "And one has to get
accustomed to such things!" thought she.
All the day long their journey lay through that brain-wearying plain
whose endless flatness oppressed soul and body with its monotony and
soon drove her back to her own thoughts. Towards evening there were
signs of rain. Clouds were rising and then, at least, there would be
something new to point at in the eternal monotony of the sky.
Unfortunately clouds have the bad habit of bringing tempests along with
them, and tempests are evil travelling companions on the steppes of the
_Alfoeld_.[9] The towers of the town they were trying to reach were still
only dimly visible on the horizon. In ordinary weather it would not have
mattered if they had arrived late, for they had reckoned upon the
moonlight; but there could be no moon to-night, instead of her a storm
full of angry lightnings was approaching.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103