He gestured eloquently with his hands.
"I don't know," he said, "except she wants it so. It is she who wants ever to be on the move; it is she who draws designs upon the map. It is she who draws the circles in which we travel, now and then making Dresden the center of our roamings, now and then choosing some other city, such as Paris or Rome. It is she who says we must go on and on. It is she. And what can I say, Marius, except that it delights me."
I went towards him and for one moment he thought I meant to harm him and he stiffened.
I took his wrist before he could move. I studied him. What a noble being he was, his grand white wig in sharp contrast to his lustrous brown skin, his black eyes staring at me with such earnestness and seeming comprehension.
"Stay with me here," I said. "Both of you. Remain with me. Stay with me and my companion, Bianca."
He smiled and shook his head. There was no contempt in his eyes. We were male to male and there was no contempt. He told me only No.
"She will not have it," he said, his voice very placating and calm. "I know her. I know all her ways. She brought me to herself because I worshiped her. And once having her blood I have never ceased in that worship."
I stood there, clutching his wrist still, and staring about me as if I were ready to cry out to the gods. And it seemed my cry would break the very walls of this house if I let it loose.
"How can this be!" I whispered. "That I should find her and know her only for one night, one precious night of quarreling."
"You and she are equals," he said. "I am but an instrument."
I closed my eyes.
Quite suddenly I could hear her weeping, and when this sound came to my ears, Arjun gently freed himself from me and said in his soft gentle voice that he must go to her.
I walked slowly out of the hallway, and down the marble steps and into the night, ignoring my carriage.
I walked home through the forest.
When I reached my house, I went into my library, took off the wig which I had worn to the ball, threw it across the room and sat in a chair at my writing table.
I put my head down on my folded arms and silently wept as I had not wept since the death of Eudoxia. I wept. And the hours passed, and at last I realized that Bianca was standing beside me.
She was stroking my hair with her hand, and then I heard her whisper.
"Time to come down the steps to our cold grave, Marius. It is early for you, but I must go and I can't leave you this way."
I rose to my feet. I took her in my arms and gave way to the most awful tears, and all the while she held me silently and warmly.
And then we went down to our coffins together.
The following night, I went immediately to the house where I'd left Pandora.
I found it deserted and then I searched all of Dresden and the many palaces or schlosses around it.
She and Arjun were gone, there was no doubt of it. And going up to the Ducal Palace where there was a little concert in progress I soon learned the "official" news of it, of how the handsome black coach of the Marquis and the Marquis a De Malvrier had left before dawn for Russia.
Russia.
Being in no mood for the music, I soon made my apologies to those gathered in the salon and I went home again, as miserable as I have ever been in my existence. As heartbroken.
I sat down at my desk. I looked out over the river. I felt the warm spring breeze.
I thought of all the many things she and I should have said to each other, all the many things I might have said in a calmer spirit to persuade her. I told myself she wasn't gone beyond reach. I told myself that she knew where I was, and that she could write to me. I told myself anything I needed to keep my sanity.
And I did not hear it when Bianca came into the room. I did not hear it when she sat down in a large tapestried armchair quite near to me.
I saw her as if she were a vision