But Von Ibn spoke at once, coldly, but politely.

"Perhaps madame will permit me to escort her to her hotel this evening.

If she will do so, I shall be most happy."

The American looked eagerly at Rosina.

"I am going very soon," she said; "perhaps that will be best."

He appeared puzzled.

"If you'd rather I stayed--" he suggested.

"No," said Von Ibn sharply, "it is better that you go!" then he added, in a somewhat milder tone, "it is very fine, the moonlight from the University."

When they were alone, he was silent and led her out of the crowded garden down upon the Quai. It was a superb night, and the moon and its golden beams were mirrored in the lake. Little waves came running tranquilly across the shivering silver sheet and tossing themselves gently up against the stone-sheathed bank; some merry boat-loads were drifting out among the shadows, listening to the music from the sh.o.r.e and sending a silver echo of laughter to join in its accords.

They walked on until something of their own tumult was stayed by the stillness, and then Von Ibn said quietly:

"Tell me of what you were saying."

"I was saying that you thought that I had remained here because of that man, and yet it was really all an accident."

He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"But you are quite free,--and he seems very nice, and is of your own country and all so agreeable."

"I was really too tired to go to Constance, but--"

"Oh, madame, _je vous en prie_," he interrupted, "no explanation is needful. It does not interest me, I a.s.sure you."

"I did not want to go to Constance until Thursday," she went steadily on; "but I could not stay here because--because--"

"Yes," he interrupted, "all that I have understand,--I understand all."

"So," she continued, "I packed to go, and meant to go, and then when you told me that you were leaving too, I thought that I might just as well adhere to my--"

"What is 'adhere'?" he broke in; "that word I have never known before."

"It means--well--it means 'stick to.'"

"Glue paste?"

She felt as if a clown had suddenly turned a somersault into the midst of the death scene of Hamlet!

"Not glue paste," she explained carefully; "of course, in one way, it means the same thing; but I meant that when I knew that you were going, I felt that I might just as well do as I had originally intended doing, and remain here to rest a little."

"And you repose by coming to the Tonhalle with a gentleman?" he asked in a tone of smothered sarcasm.

"I met him this afternoon as I was walking--"

"Have you only know him first this afternoon?"

"_Monsieur!_" she cried in horror, "I came on the steamer with him from New York, and he went to college with my cousin!"

Von Ibn gave another shrug.

"You tell everything very cleverly," he remarked; "but, my dear madame, we have too many difficulties,--it is always that between us, and--what is your proverb?--no smoke without over a fire?--_Eh bien_, I begin to grow weary."

"Don't you believe what I have just told you?" she demanded.

They were near the further end of the Quai where the crowd was thinnest and the play of moonbeam and shadow most alluring. He stopped and looked long upon the shining water, and then long upon her face.

"Yes," he said at last, "I do believe." He held out his hand, "I do believe now, but I must tell you that truly if I had been of a '_temperament jaloux_,' I would have been very angry this night.

Yes,--of a surety."

She looked away, with an impulse to smile, and her heart was sufficiently eased of its burden to allow her to do so.

"Shall we go to the hotel now?" she asked after a moment.

"But you have not given me your hand?"

She put her hand in his, and he pressed it warmly, and then drew it within his arm as they turned to retrace their steps.

"I like better to walk alone," she said, freeing herself.

"You are, perhaps, still angry?" he inquired anxiously.

"No, but I can walk easier alone. And I want you to tell me now why you are not _en route_ North, instead of staying here in Zurich."

"But I have been North," he said eagerly; "I have been this day to Aarburg."

"To Aarburg!--Where is that?"

"Wait, I will make all plain to you," he looked down upon her with the smile that always proclaimed a complete declaration of peace, "it all went like this: I see so plain that I make you to leave before you like, that I am glad to go away and so make you quite free. It came to my head like this,--I wanted to know something and by looking at your face and saying that I must go to Leipsic for some one there, I see all that I wish to know--"

"What did you see?" Rosina interrupted.

"I see plainly that you think it is some lady--"

"I did not think any such a thing!" she cried hotly.

He laughed and tossed his head.

"And so as I really should go to Leipsic I take the train and go, and then on the train I think why am I gone, and when I think again, I feel to leave the train at Aarburg and telegraph, and when the answer come that you are still here, I feel very strongly to return at once, and so I do."

Rosina looked up with a smile, and, meeting his eyes, was suddenly overcome with a fear, vague and undefined, it is true, but not the less real, as to whether she had been wise in bringing about this most complete reconciliation.

"But you must still go to Leipsic?" she asked presently.