They
tried to catch a glimpse of the men of their own party below, but a
protruding balcony hid the door, and they could only make out Count
Muffat, who looked like a dark parcel thrown down on the bench where he
sat. He was still burying his face in his handkerchief. A carriage
had stopped in front, and yet another woman hurried up, in whom Lucy
recognized Maria Blond. She was not alone; a stout man got down after
her.
"It's that thief of a Steiner," said Caroline. "How is it they haven't
sent him back to Cologne yet? I want to see how he looks when he comes
in."
They turned round, but when after the lapse of ten minutes Maria Blond
appeared, she was alone. She had twice mistaken the staircase. And when
Lucy, in some astonishment, questioned her:
"What, he?" she said. "My dear, don't you go fancying that he'll come
upstairs! It's a great wonder he's escorted me as far as the door. There
are nearly a dozen of them smoking cigars."
As a matter of fact, all the gentlemen were meeting downstairs. They had
come strolling thither in order to have a look at the boulevards, and
they hailed one another and commented loudly on that poor girl's death.
Then they began discussing politics and strategy.
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