The American did not return till M. Linders was nearly well
again, and thinking of departure. Madelon was in despair at
the idea of leaving Florence; it had been more like home to
her than any place she had yet known, and it almost broke her
heart to think of parting with her old German friend; but M.
Linders was impatient to be gone. He wanted change of air, he
said, after his illness; but, indeed, had other reasons which
he proclaimed less openly, but which were far more imperative,
and made him anxious to pay an earlier visit to Germany this
year than was usual with him. Certain speculations, on the
success of which he had counted, had failed, so that a grand
_coup_ at Homburg or Baden seemed no less necessary than
desirable to set him straight again with the world, and he
accordingly fixed on a day towards the end of April for their
departure.
The American made a festive little supper the evening before
in his _atelier_, but it was generally felt to be a melancholy
failure, for not even the artist's rather forced gaiety, nor
M. Linders' real indifference, could enliven it.
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