And then there were the nights, the
miserable evenings and nights of separation. On the Sunday she had
departed to Venice, and after she had gone, Paul had returned for one day
to Lucerne, leaving again on the Monday, apparently as unacquainted with
Madame Zalenska as he had been the first night of his arrival.
He had not seen her since Saturday. Three whole days of anguishing
longing. And now in half an hour at least she would be in his arms. The
journey through the beautiful scenery from Lucerne had been got through at
night--all day from Milan a feverish excitement had dominated him, and
prevented his taking any interest in outward surroundings. A magnetic
attraction seemed drawing him on--on--to the centre of light and joy--his
lady's presence.
Dmitry and an Italian servant awaited his arrival; not an instant's delay
for luggage called a halt. Tompson and the Italian were left for that, and
Paul departed with his trusty guide.
It was about seven o'clock, the opalescent lights were beginning to show
in the sky, and their reflection in the water, as he stooped his tall head
to enter the covered gondola. It was all too beautiful and wonderful to
take in at once, and then he only wanted wings the sooner to arrive, not
eyes to see the passing objects.
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