Heidelberg with its romantic surroundings was not precisely the placecalculated to heal Somerset's wounded heart. He had known the town ofyore, and his recollections of that period, when, unfettered in fancy,he had transferred to his sketch-book the fine Renaissance details ofthe Otto-Heinrichs-Bau came back with unpleasant force. He knew of somecarved cask-heads and other curious wood-work in the castle cellars,copies of which, being unobtainable by photographs, he had intended tomake if all went well between Paula and himself. The zest for this wasnow well-nigh over. But on awaking in the morning and looking upthe valley towards the castle, and at the dark green height of theKonigsstuhl alongside, he felt that to become vanquished by a passion,driven to suffer, fast, and pray in the dull pains and vapours ofdespised love, was a contingency not to be welcomed too readily.Thereupon he set himself to learn the sad science of renunciation, whicheverybody has to learn in his degree--either rebelling throughout thelesson, or, like Somerset, taking to it kindly by force of judgment.A more obstinate pupil might have altogether escaped the lesson in thepresent case by discovering its illegality.
Resolving to persevere in the heretofore satisfactory paths of art whilelife and faculties were left, though every instinct must proclaim thatthere would be no longer any collateral attraction in that pursuit, hewent along under the trees of the Anlage and reached the castle vaults,in whose cool shades he spent the afternoon, working out his intentionswith fair result. When he had strolled back to his hotel in the eveningthe time was approaching for the table-d'hote. Having seated himselfrather early, he spent the few minutes of waiting in looking overhis pocket-book, and putting a few finishing touches to the afternoonperformance whilst the objects were fresh in his memory. Thus occupiedhe was but dimly conscious of the customary rustle of dresses andpulling up of chairs by the crowd of other diners as they gatheredaround him. Serving began, and he put away his book and prepared for themeal. He had hardly done this when he became conscious that the personon his left hand was not the typical cosmopolite with boundless hotelknowledge and irrelevant experiences that he was accustomed to find nexthim, but a face he recognized as that of a young man whom he had metand talked to at Stancy Castle garden-party, whose name he had nowforgotten. This young fellow was conversing with somebody on his lefthand--no other personage than Paula herself. Next to Paula he beheldDe Stancy, and De Stancy's sister beyond him. It was one of thosegratuitous encounters which only happen to discarded lovers who haveshown commendable stoicism under disappointment, as if on purpose toreopen and aggravate their wounds.
It seemed as if the intervening traveller had met the other party byaccident there and then. In a minute he turned and recognized Somerset,and by degrees the young men's cursory remarks to each other developedinto a pretty regular conversation, interrupted only when he turned tospeak to Paula on his left hand.
'Your architectural adviser travels in your party: how very convenient,'said the young tourist to her. 'Far pleasanter than having a medicalattendant in one's train!'
Somerset, who had no distractions on the other side of him, couldhear every word of this. He glanced at Paula. She had not known of hispresence in the room till now. Their eyes met for a second, and shebowed sedately. Somerset returned her bow, and her eyes were quicklywithdrawn with scarcely visible confusion.
'Mr. Somerset is not travelling with us,' she said. 'We have met byaccident. Mr. Somerset came to me on business a little while ago.'
'I must congratulate you on having put the castle into good hands,'continued the enthusiastic young man.
'I believe Mr. Somerset is quite competent,' said Paula stiffly.
To include Somerset in the conversation the young man turned to him andadded: 'You carry on your work at the castle con amore, no doubt?'
'There is work I should like better,' said Somerset.
'Indeed?'
The frigidity of his manner seemed to set her at ease by dispersing allfear of a scene; and alternate dialogues of this sort with the gentlemanin their midst were more or less continued by both Paula and Somersettill they rose from table.
In the bustle of moving out the two latter for one moment stood side byside.
'Miss Power,' said Somerset, in a low voice that was obscured by therustle, 'you have nothing more to say to me?'
'I think there is nothing more?' said Paula, lifting her eyes withlonging reticence.
'Then I take leave of you; and tender my best wishes that you may have apleasant time before you!.... I set out for England to-night.'
'With a special photographer, no doubt?'
It was the first time that she had addressed Somerset with a meaningdistinctly bitter; and her remark, which had reference to the forgedphotograph, fell of course without its intended effect.
'No, Miss Power,' said Somerset gravely. 'But with a deeper sense ofwoman's thoughtless trifling than time will ever eradicate.'
'Is not that a mistake?' she asked in a voice that distinctly trembled.
'A mistake? How?'
'I mean, do you not forget many things?' (throwing on him a troubledglance). 'A woman may feel herself justified in her conduct, although itadmits of no explanation.'
'I don't contest the point for a moment.... Goodbye.'
'Good-bye.'
They parted amid the flowering shrubs and caged birds in the hall,and he saw her no more. De Stancy came up, and spoke a few commonplacewords, his sister having gone out, either without perceiving Somerset,or with intention to avoid him.
That night, as he had said, he was on his way to England.