A Dance of Forbidden Desires

Chapter 4

Paul quickly forgot about the woman since the food was so excellent, the sun was shining, and he was young and hungry. As a result, he relaxed and enjoyed his dinner.

He was drawn to the Bürgenstock's appearance across the lake because he afterwards smoked another cigar under the trees. He would travel there and investigate the pathways after hiring an electric launch. If only Isabella or Pike were beside him!

He put this notion into practice.

It was like a funicular railway. How charming the treetops appeared when one was amid them, despite how steep and hard the path was. Indeed, Lucerne was a lot happier than Paris. He continued to wander among the trees while oblivious to their stunning hues. He finally stopped to rest. He felt at ease, even at peace. He believed that he could be content if he had Pike.

What caused the sound you heard in the leaves above him? When he looked up, he almost immediately started as aggressively as the previous evening. Because the woman in black was there, staring at him from the delicate green of the young beeches. Her long black veil and black cap cut a striking figure against the vibrant greenery as she peered down at him through the split boughs, her entire face in delicate darkness and framed by the misty gauze.

Paul's heart was racing. He briefly saw a pulse in his throat.

He was conscious of staring into her eyes, and he believed he recognized the color as green. They appeared to be bigger than he had anticipated. They were also very expertly placed, with just a hint of lift in the corners. Additionally, their expression was intriguing and sarcastic.She released the branches, though, and vanished from sight.

Paul didn't move. He was exciting in every way. Should he follow her and hide amid the trees? Should he shout her name and implore her to return? Must he—? When he finally made a decision and arrived at the location where she must have been standing, he realized it was an intersection of three paths, and he had no idea which one she had chosen. When he had gone far enough to see ahead, there was no one in sight. He hurried down the first of them, but it twisted and turned. He then tried the second after going back his way. This also had a disappointing outcome. The third led to a gap where he could see the funiculaire falling, and as it sunk out of view, he noticed a black dress that was nearly obscured by the body of a standing man, whom he recognized as the elderly silver-haired servant.

At Eton and Oxford, Paul picked up a variety of curse words. He then allowed most of them to be heard by the trees. 

When the train came back, he would not be able to go till then, and where would she be then? It would take an eternity to travel the trails. This particular situation had fairly hurt him.

As he made his way back to the small hotel with a terrace overlooking the lake far below, he thought he saw a dark figure lying down in an electric launch that was speeding over the clear water.

Then he started talking to himself. Why should seeing this woman have sparked such a severe reaction in him?

Why? Except for Isabella, women were frivolous objects that didn't really matter. Of knew she was important, but for some reason he had a harder time picturing her than usual. Her hands—her large red hands—were what he seemed to notice most clearly. Then, without realizing it, he lost all memory of her.

He thought to himself, "She certainly looks younger in daylight." "Perhaps no more than thirty. What odd headgear, especially with that shadow covering her eyes. What is she doing all by herself here? She must be someone from the hotel because guests are making such a scene, and that servant—then why is she by herself?" He continued to think.

Not being a demi-mondaine, she. The English folks he was familiar with were very commonplace, but he had heard that some of the French women were pretty grande dame and traveled in prince. He was certain that this was not one of them, though. Who is she, exactly? He must be aware.

The quickest way to find out would be to return to the hotel, so he decided to leave the Bürgenstock on the following descending train.

He spent a half-hour climbing and descending under the lime trees outside her rooms' terrace, but he received no compensation for his efforts. Finally, he entered. He believed that he would also enjoy a meal. On his went up to get dressed, he spoke with the maître d'hôtel, and the two of them came up with a menu. Although Paul was still a novice actor and found it difficult to act casually, he yearned to ask the man about the unknown.

At precisely half past eight, he descended after carefully getting ready. Undoubtedly, the table was set for her, but tonight's silver vase contained large carnations rather than roses. The waiters certainly seemed to bring things swiftly! And what a horrifying amount of food there was! Even if he took his time, by nine o'clock he was practically done. Perhaps it would be best to request a newspaper once more. Anything to put off having to get up and leave. He was overcome by a tense, uneasy sense of expectation. What a sexist woman to be so late! What chef could properly prepare his delicacies if they had to wait thus long? It's inconceivable that she would have placed her order for half past nine! After an hour had passed and he had finished his second cup of coffee, Paul began to get a nauseating sense of rage and disappointment. He abruptly stood up and left. He came face to face with the lady in the hallway as she was exiting the hallway leading to her rooms.

Then he became furious with himself. Why didn't he wait? There was no way he could go back at this point. What a missed opportunity to look at her—and how completely wasted.

He resisted the urge to enter the lovely night as he sat glumly down in the hallway. At least he would spot her returning. But after waiting until almost eleven in the morning and she still hadn't shown up, he got the annoying realization that she had probably left and gone to her lodgings on the terrace outside, under the lime tree.

He ran up and started to stalk into the starlight. He could see through the restaurant's windows, and nobody was inside. Then he sat down on the bench beneath the ivy once more, but it was now completely dark and silent. Deeply unhappy, Paul eventually went to bed.

The following day was so beautifully fine that his youth and health sang. He rose early and left right away. He resolved as he ate breakfast that he would not think of this weird lady once throughout the entire day. He then quickly embarked on a launch toward the Rigi while carrying the English papers. strong joy as well! Isabella's letter is here!

What a lovely letter. It was all about Pike and Moonlighter and the other horses, and Isabella was going to stay with a friend in Blackheath, where she hoped to play golf better than she could at home. Lady Henrietta had been kind to her. She knew Paul's address and that Sunday had been the day of a "jolly big party" at Verdayne Place, but none of his "pals" were present. She added naively, "If there were, at least they weren't in church.

Paul read all of this while launching to the Rigi, but for some reason it sounded like stuff that would happen in the far future and was less exciting than normal. He had a fantastic ascent, but by the time he returned to Lucerne in the evening, he was exhausted and ravenous.

Nearing nine o'clock meant that he would at least be present to greet her if she arrived tonight. Of fact, it made no difference whether she arrived or not because he had defeated that stupid interest. Until he arrived at his table, he would hardly have looked. Yes, she was there at the very end of her meal, dipping her white fingers in the rosewater.

Paul had a strange wild rush once more in spite of himself, and he knew it was what he had been secretly longing for all day. Oh, alas! It mattered a great deal.

She never gave him a second thought. Her majestic, beautiful motions as she left the room delighted his sight. He was capable of understanding and appreciating motion; after all, was he not familiar with thoroughbreds and capable of evaluating their action and line?

How lifeless and unbearably boring the space appeared when she left. The waiters' slowness irritated him because they had appeared to hurry the previous night. But eventually, his lunch came to an end, and he stepped outside under the trees. There were so many stars in the sky that it hardly looked dark. The atmosphere was calm, and a band in the distance was playing a somber valse song.

Numerous individuals were moving around, and the lights from the hotel windows illuminated the area. As he once more sat on the seat, only the ivy terrace was in the shade.

Where did she enter last night? That he needed to learn—he stood up and looked about. Yes, just around the corner was a small gate, a set of stairs, and a private access to this suite.

The woman passed him while she was covered in a black gauze scarf, and she stood aside as the silver-haired servant used a key to open the tiny door before she entered and vanished from view.

The celebs appeared to be dancing to Paul. He was so excited that his entire body was shivering as he sat down on the bench once more.

He remained motionless for at least thirty minutes before the town's clocks began to ring. No, there was no hope; that night, he wouldn't see her again. He got out of bed drowsily, exhausted after his day's trek. And as he rose to his feet, he once more saw her face peering down at him from over the ivy.

How did she manage to traverse the terrace unheard by him? How much time had she spent there? What does it matter? She was present, at least. What did those eyes that were peering into him from the shadow say? They must have grinned at him. Paul climbed up onto the seat. Now that he was almost level with her face, his eyebrows were lifted in eager anticipation. Did she whisper something, or was he dreaming? He wasn't sure because the sound was so faint. In the pitch black, he reached out his arms to her while drawing closer by the ivy. And there was no error this time.

Paul, come, she said. I want to say something to you.

Paul flew around to the tiny gate.