Then, as swiftly as it had fled, her vitality came ebbing back; she got quickly to her feet, went into the sittingroom, rang the bell and took off her bonnet.
When her maid came she asked that Heinrich, the manager, should be sent to her immediately.
The maid hesitated.
"Mademoiselle is looking very tired. Perhaps "
"No. I am all right. But Monsieur Heinrich is to come at once. Wherever he is, you must find him."
Ten minutes later, when Heinrich appeared, she was sitting in an armchair with her back to the window, and her hands folded in her lap. Against the lacquer-black of her hair her face was whiter than a waxen candle, and there were deep stains, like bruises, beneath her eyes.
Heinrich began affably: "I suspect you're exhausted, after dancing in such sun. But what a brilliant success! Have you told "
She interrupted him in a voice the clearness of which disconcerted even herself. She said:
"Heinrich, Rosing is dead. He's in the next room. I found him. Please go and look."
"What nonsense are you talking? Only three hours ago "
"Oh, please do what I teil you."
With one glance at her he went into the bedroom. He was not there long. When he came out she was sitting as he had left her.
"It's true, isn't it? He is dead, isn't he?"
Heinrich was a young man with a high forehead and a reddish beard. His face, usually so ruddy, now looked pasty, like cheese.
"My poor child, my poor Lina!"
She repeated monotonously: "I found him. Just now. I knew he was dead. I found him when I came in."