Slowly she descended the winding staircase, so narrow in the upper half
of the tower that there would have been no room for anything more
substantial by her side than the ghost of some ancestral dame. Poor
ancestral dame! There was no place for her here now, even although the
new-made nobleman above-stairs should desire that as an appendage to his
greatness he should own a ghostly white lady to look after the fortunes
of his house, could he but buy one by as heavy a drain upon his
money-bags as his patent of nobility had already cost him! There upon
the walls hung the armour of her knightly race,--the weapons with which
the old giants had striven for honour and shame, for lands and blood.
The heavier the dints upon the old breastplates, the more frequent the
blood-stains upon them, the more precious would they have been held, the
more caressing would have been the nightly touch of her ghostly fingers.
Now they glittered without a stain upon the walls, and the weapons of
the new inmate of the tower were his money-bags.
Yes, the strange foreign element that vibrated through all the social
intercourse of the family at the villa, the money-fever, the spirit of
speculation, had intruded here also in this mimicry of the old chivalric
life. It infected the air, it glided up and down the stairs, and the
mighty tankards on the sideboards in the hall were not more of a mockery
in the soft hands whose only labour was to cut coupons than were the
giant locks and bolts, but lately burnished afresh, upon the iron
cellar-door that kept guard over the councillor's champagne, while money
by thousands of thousands was locked up in the safe above, with its
small decorated key-hole. The historic powder from the Thirty Years'
War was still in the cellar,--tolerated there by the councillor, only,
as Henriette averred, that the inquisitive visitor might have an
opportunity of seeing the costly wines arranged beside it in
well-ordered rows. It was this that made Kitty a stranger in the home
of her childhood; this display, this estimate of effect, for which no
outlay of money was too great; this feverish effort to proclaim to the
world that the basis of everything here was of gold,---all this was in
direct contradiction to the spirit of the old Mangold firm, which had
never thus asserted its undeniable wealth and credit. Nor during her
father's lifetime had money as power intruded upon his home; strict as
he was in all his business relations in his counting-room, not one word
with regard to them ever escaped him in the home circle. And now! even
the Frau President speculated. She had thrown her small property of a
few thousands into the huge lottery,--that is, invested it in
stock,--and it was strange to see her face, usually so calm and
impassive, work nervously, and flush with colour to the temples, when
the subject of conversation was the money-market.
Kitty left the tower and crossed the bridge. She leaned for a moment
over the railing and looked down into the water, as if she half expected
to see in its depths her old friends the dwarf fruit-trees and
strawberry-vines,--but she saw only her own head, with its crown of
thick brown braids. This girl, oddly enough, was the heiress of the
family; she was reminded daily that as such she was distinguished and
flattered, and she was repeatedly taught that she never should arrange
these same brown braids herself, that a lady's maid was indispensably
necessary; but she opposed an energetic will to the Frau President's
admonitions; nothing should induce her to resign her head to the hands
of an artiste, to sit solemn as some heathen idol for hours in her
dressing-gown. Oh, yes, it was delightful indeed to be rich, but her
wealth should not make a slave of her, should not fetter her warm,
active, shapely hands.
She left behind her the pretty grounds around the ruin, and walked along
the unfrequented path through the meadows upon the banks of the stream.
Chilled by the melted snow from the mountains, that swelled it to a
torrent, the little river rolled along, clay-coloured in hue; but the
minnows showed here and there like flecks of molten silver, the soft,
downy buds were thick upon the osiers, and beneath their protecting
net-work the blue flowers of the hepatica were spreading everywhere,--it
was easy to make a spring nosegay.
With a bunch of them in her hand, she sauntered on as far as the ancient
wooden bridge. There was Susie's old bleaching-ground, the meadow,
planted with fruit-trees. The councillor had spoken truly; the low
picket fence that enclosed the garden was in perfect repair, and
everything about the house, from the old tiled roof to the latticed
arbour for the grapevines, was in thorough order. And it was really a
charming old house, the despised "barracks." It was situated in a very
retired spot on the banks of the river, and the leafy grove behind it,
on the other side of the fence, gave it the character of a woodland
cottage. Its exterior was not imposing, to be sure; it had only one row
of windows, directly above which arose the roof with its gilded
weather-cock and massive chimneys, one of which was actually
smoking,--an incredible sight. It was long indeed since a fire had been
kindled on that hearth or a lamp lighted within those walls. During the
lifetime of the castle miller it had been used as a store-house for
grain; the shutters had always been closed, and the door of entrance
locked, except during harvest. At that time, little Kitty used to slip
into what was called the fruit-room, an apartment adjoining the kitchen,
with whitewashed walls and a large green stove, and fill her apron with
rosy-cheeked apples and mellow pears. To-day, the shutters were wide
open, and the young girl saw for the first time in her life the glitter
of the panes of glass in the large windows. It was now Doctor Bruck's
home.
Scarcely knowing why, she crossed the bridge and passed ground three
sides of the house. Her heart beat slightly, for she really had no
right to be seen here; but the soft turf smothered the sound of her
footsteps, which indeed could never have been heard above the din of the
rushing river and of the sparrows twittering upon the roof. Some of the
windows were open; she could see, within, hanging baskets filled with
green creeping plants and vines, and the bright glitter of burnished
copper on the kitchen walls; the merry song of a bird, too, came through
the window, mingling with the shrill chatter of the sparrows; but there
was no sound of human life or occupation. She cautiously turned around
the west corner to pass by the front of the house, and paused, startled.
In the large doorway that divided the front of the house into halves,
and from which a broad flight of steps led down to the little lawn,
stood a lady, slender, refined, almost virginal in appearance. A table
standing beside her was piled with books and pictures, which she was
engaged in dusting. She looked up in surprise at the shy intruder, and
involuntarily dropped the picture in her hand,--it was Flora's
photograph in an oval frame.
Impossible that this could be the dean's widow! After Flora's sneering
description, Kitty had fancied her a little, bent, active housekeeper,
her hands rough with hard work, grown gray amidst pots and pans, and
liking nothing so much as baking pancakes; she could not reconcile the
picture of her imagination with this lady, elderly to be sure, but with
delicate, noble features, and gentle, earnest eyes, her still abundant
fair hair covered with a kerchief of white lace.
Kitty grew more and more embarrassed, as, standing at the foot of the
steps, she stammered out her excuses. "I used to play here as a child:
I only came from Dresden a few days ago, and---- That is my sister,"
she added, hastily, pointing to the picture, and then breaking into a
clear, merry laugh, and shaking her head at the extraordinary manner in
which, in her confusion, she had introduced herself.
The lady laughed, too. She placed the picture upon the table, and,
descending the steps, held out both hands to the young girl. "Then you
are the doctor's youngest sister-in-law." A faint shadow crossed her
face. "I did not know that there were visitors at Villa Baumgarten,"
she added, with the slightest tinge of irritation.
A shadow floated across Kitty's mind also at this moment. Was she, then,
such a nonentity, such an entirely insignificant member of the Mangold
family, that Doctor Bruck had not thought it worth while to mention
having met her? She bit her lip, and silently followed the lady, who
invited her into the house and opened a door in the large hall. Every
movement of her slender figure was gentle and gracious.
"Here is my room,--my home for the rest of my life," she said, in a tone
in which was plainly audible her satisfaction at having reached this
harbour of refuge after years of weary wandering.
"Before my husband received the appointment of dean in the city, he had
charge of a small country parish. Our means were not adequate, and all
my economy in housekeeping was needed to maintain the dignity of his
position; but it was the happiest time of my life. The dust and noise
of the city were never good for my nerves; my longing for the quiet of
woods and fields became almost morbid. I never spoke of it but the
doctor privately made the purchase of this place with his savings, and
showed it to me as my own a few hours afterwards." Her voice was husky
with emotion as she spoke the last words. With what pride did she call
her nephew "the doctor"! and as she spoke she smiled pleasantly. "Is it
not a charming place,--quite a castle?" she asked. "See these
folding-doors, and the graceful decoration of the ceilings. Those
leather hangings, with their tarnished gold, must once have been very
splendid; and out in the garden there are the remains of clipped yews
and old statues of stone. The place was originally the dower-house, of
one of the women of the Baumgarten family,--I learned that from an old
chronicle. We have scrubbed and aired and warmed the rooms, but have
altered nothing; we are not rich enough for that, and indeed there is no
need of it."
Kitty was inspecting it all with silent satisfaction. The dark mahogany
furniture suited the faded leather hangings admirably. Against the
wall, not far from the large white glazed antique stove, stood a sofa
covered with chintz, and above it hung the portrait of the late dean in
his canonicals,--valuable, perhaps, as a likeness, but scarcely as a
work of art. The plants at each of the high, broad windows decorated the
room charmingly; there were various kinds of azaleas and palms, and
magnificent india-rubber trees, just now tinged with gold by the
sunshine that came broadly in through the net curtains. Gold-fish in a
glass bowl, and a canary in a cage,--those favourites with lonely
women,--were here also; and spring flowers, gay hyacinths, with here and
there a white narcissus bending its fair head dreamily, were upon the
window-sills, while the work-table was fairly embowered in laurel.
"They are of my own growing: almost from the seed," the old lady said,
as she noticed the girl's admiring gaze. "Of course I put the finest in
the doctor's room." She opened the door of the adjoining apartment and
invited Kitty to enter.
"Of course!" There was a charm in her way of speaking these words, as
if they sprang from a maternal devotion which must excuse any
over-indulgence. "Of course" she had given him the pleasantest room in
the house,--the corner room,--below the eastern windows of which the
stream rippled past. On the other side of the water lay one of the
finest parts of the park, and in the distance, behind the lindens, the
blue tiles of the roof of the villa could be seen. Between these
windows stood the writing-table, so that when the doctor raised his eyes
from his work he could see the flag-staff of the villa pointing towards
heaven,---towards heaven! Kitty suddenly felt her cheeks flush with
shame as she thought how the tenderest care was watching over the man's
comfort here, while there her faithless sister was employed day and
night in devising some way to thrust him from his heaven. She had
resigned all claim upon him with those frivolous words, "Make him happy
yourself."
Did the warm-hearted, delicate-minded woman standing beside her dream,
or perhaps instinctively feel, that the heaviest sorrow he could have to
endure was hanging over her darling's future? She had received Kitty
not as a new-comer, a stranger to the family relations, but as Bruck's
youngest sister-in-law, who must of necessity be so well aware of
everything connected with him that there was no need of any mention that
she was his aunt. Surely she could not have known much of the inmates
of Villa Baumgarten; and she confirmed Kitty's suspicion on this head by
pointing to the wall over the writing-table, and saying, "All is not
quite ready here; there I shall hang the photographs of his Flora, and
of his mother, my dear sister."
Nothing else was wanting in the cosy room. The doctor, who was to
return by the evening train, had no suspicion that his aunt had left the
city. She had wished to spare him all the annoyance of moving; and the
councillor had been so kind, she said, as to come to her assistance, by
putting her in immediate possession of the house.
As she talked, the dean's widow went on putting a finishing touch here
and there, gliding about with a step so noiseless that it could not have
disturbed the doctor if he had been seated at his writing-table, deep in
his new work, for the completion of which he had desired this retirement
in the country.
She now opened a cupboard in the wall beside the bookshelves, and took
thence a plate filled with delicate little cakes. These she offered to
the young girl with a charming air of hospitality. "They are fresh; I
made them to-day, busy as I was. The doctor always has a supply for his
little patients, who often need a bribe. But I cannot offer you any
wine, for the few bottles that we own I left in town, where they are
required for the sick."
Kitty thought of the papers in her safe, "working day and night" to fill
it with gold, of the well-furnished wine-cellar in the tower, and of her
wayward, cigarette-smoking sister, buried amid the crimson cushions of
the lounge. What a contrast it was to this simple content and
self-denial! And how all this reminded her of her Dresden home! Her
heart warmed to the dean's widow, and she told her of her dear
foster-mother, of her wise and gentle ways of influencing those around
her, and of her never-failing industry,--an industry to which she had
trained her foster-child.
"But what does the Frau President say to such a system of education?"
the aunt asked, with a smile, as her eyes dwelt with pleasure upon the
blooming young creature.
"I do not know," Kitty replied, with a shrug and a saucy glance; "but I
suppose my movements are too quick for her, my voice too loud, and I am
too robust,--not sufficiently pale. Heaven knows, I am a trial indeed!
Is that your sister's portrait?" she suddenly broke off to ask, pointing
to an oil sketch of a very pretty woman, leaning in its frame against
the wall.
The old lady assented. "I am sorry to have to leave it in so insecure a
place," she said, "for the frame is old; but I suffer from vertigo, and
dare not mount a step-ladder. A few weeks ago I was obliged to dismiss
my servant,"--a faint flush tinged her withered cheek,--"and now I must
wait until the charwoman comes to hang these last pictures, and the
curtains to my bed."
At the first words of this explanation, Kitty had laid her parasol upon
the writing-table and stuck her little bouquet of willow buds and
hepatica into a pretty little milk-white vase that stood beside the
inkstand. Then she pulled the table out into the room, and moved a
chair up to the wall. "May I?" she asked, coaxingly, picking up the
hammer and nails that were placed ready on the window-seat.
With a grateful smile the aunt brought her the portrait, and in a few
moments it was hung upon the wall. Kitty shrank back involuntarily when
the old lady then handed her Flora's photograph. Should she with her
own hand place this picture where it would constantly meet the eyes of
the betrayed lover? It was no longer his, it would in a few short days
be reclaimed, with the ring which he still wore on his finger. How the
thought pained her! The old lady passed her hand caressingly over the
picture. "She is so lovely!" she said, tenderly. "I know her only
slightly; she does not come often to see me; how could an old woman ask
her to undertake so tiresome a task? but I am very fond of her, for she
loves him, and will make him happy."
What an inconceivable absence of all misgiving! The girl's cheeks
burned with a sense of her own imprudence. After all she had heard in
the tower, she never should have set foot within these doors. She felt
like a hypocrite for not snatching the picture from the old lady's hand
and unmasking the serpent that was ready to dart at her heart. But she
could say nothing. She hammered at the nail so vigorously that the wall
shook, then she hung the photograph upon it, and pushed the
writing-table into its former place. The seductive face of her sister
looked down from the wall with the smile of a triumphant evil genius.
Kitty took up her parasol to leave the room as quickly as possible. As
she crossed the threshold she saw through an open door the old lady's
bed,--the step-ladder stood beside it. "I almost forgot that," she said,
as if in excuse, as she entered the small apartment, and, taking the gay
chintz curtains from where they lay ready, mounted the ladder. She
stood so high in the dark recess beside the window that she could touch
the projecting foot of one of the angels in the cornice, and began
rapidly to slip the curtain-rings upon their brass rods, while the old
lady, standing by the table in the middle of the adjoining sitting-room,
mixed a glass of raspberry syrup for her kind assistant.
Suddenly Kitty saw a man of erect, stately carriage pass the window.
She recognized him instantly, and started, but before she could
determine whether it was best to stay where she was or to slip hastily
down and away, he had come through the hall and entered his aunt's room.
The old lady turned, and threw her arms around him with, "Ah, Leo, here
you are already!" The raspberry syrup was entirely forgotten, as well
as the kind assistant for whom it had been intended, and who was covered
with confusion in her hiding-place behind the curtains, where she was
now obliged to stay, if she would not break in upon the meeting of aunt
and nephew.
She saw the doctor's handsome bearded face bend tenderly above the old
lady's head as he drew her towards him and, taking her hand from his
shoulder, kissed it reverentially Then he glanced through the rooms.
"Well, Leo, what do you say to my coming out here without your
knowledge?" his aunt said, noticing his glance.
"I cannot praise that proceeding. It was too much for you to undertake
in so short a time, for you know how injurious all household confusion
and worry are for you. Nevertheless, you look well and happy."
"I wish you did too, Leo," his aunt interrupted him; "you have lost the
fine colour you used to have, and here"--she lightly passed her hand
over his forehead--"there is something strange, something of pain and
perplexity. Have you been annoyed during your absence?"
"No, aunt." The tone was frank and reassuring, but evidently intended
to stop further question; the councillor had said that Bruck never spoke
of his profession or of incidents connected with it. "How attractive
this room is to me, in spite of its shabby walls!" he said, as, with
hands clasped behind him, he surveyed her writing-table. "It breathes
of the peace of mind of a self-forgetting feminine nature; that is why I
like so to come to our quiet home, aunt, with its old-fashioned
furniture and your orderly arrangements. I shall be here a great deal."
The old lady laughed. "Yes, yes, until a certain day in June," she
said, archly; "you are to be married at Whitsuntide."
"The second day of Whitsuntide." The words sounded strangely cold and
decided, as if nothing should postpone for a moment the appointed hour.
Kitty felt something like a shudder of dread. She held her breath; it
would never do to be seen now. Every minute she hoped that the doctor
would go into his room and give her the opportunity of slipping down
from her perch and leaving without meeting him. Her whole nature
revolted at this involuntary part of listener that she was playing.
But, instead of going, he suddenly took up from the table a letter that
had been slipped, apparently by chance, between two books.
His aunt made an involuntary gesture as if to prevent his reading it;
her delicate face grew crimson. "Ah, heavens!" she exclaimed, "how
forgetful my poor old head is growing! That letter came from town a few
hours ago; it is from Lenz, the merchant, and I did not mean to let you
have it to-day, but I forgot, and left it on my table. I think it
contains your fee; and coming at such an unusual time, Leo,--I am
afraid----"
The doctor opened the envelope, and hastily read the note. "Yes, he
dismisses me," he said, calmly, tossing the letter and the paper money
it contained down on the table again. "Does it worry you, aunt?"
"Me? Not for a moment, if I could be sure that you do not take the
ingratitude of these foolish people too much to heart. I have firm
faith in you, and in your skill, and in--your lucky star," the gentle
voice replied, warmly and confidently. "The obstacles that chance and
calumny place in your path do not mislead me,--you will succeed." She
pointed towards the open door of the corner room. "Look at your little
study; you can think and write there so comfortably, so secure from all
interruption! Ah, I cannot help enjoying the thought of the time, short
though it be, during which we can still be together and I can attend to
your comfort----"
"Yes, aunt; but the retrenchments you have gradually been making lately
in consequence of the unfortunate turn in my affairs must cease. I will
not have you standing for hours upon the cold stone floor of a kitchen.
You must send for our old cook to-day, if you can. There is no reason
why you should not." He put his hand into his pocket, drew thence a
heavy purse of gold, and poured out its contents upon the table.
The old lady clasped her hands in mute surprise at the golden stream
rolling here and there upon her neat table cloth.
"It is a single fee, aunt," he said, with audible satisfaction; "our
hard times are past." And, as he spoke, he turned and went into the
corner room.
It was easy to see that his aunt longed to know more; but she asked no
questions as to the cure or the patient whence came so large a sum of
money.
Kitty seized this favourable moment to get down from the ladder. How
her heart beat, how her cheeks burned, at having overheard this familiar
talk! The door of the room led directly into the hall: she could escape
unseen; even the dean's widow might suppose she had left the bedroom
long since, without hearing a word that had been said. She cast a
stealthy glance through the door of the corner room, where aunt and
nephew were standing by the writing-table. Just then she heard the
doctor say, "Ah, here are the first spring flowers! Did you know how
fond I am of these little blue blossoms?"
He was interrupted by an exclamation of surprise: "It was not I, Leo.
Kitty, your young sister-in-law, put those flowers there. Indeed, I am
absent-minded and forgetful!" The old lady hurried into the next room;
but Kitty had already slipped out of the hall door into the open air.
Without, she sauntered calmly and leisurely past the windows. Through
the first she could faintly descry the gay flowers upon the still unhung
bed-curtain; then came two windows with pretty net curtains, belonging
to the aunt's sitting-room. One of them was open, and from it came the
fragrance of hyacinth and narcissus. Suddenly a man's hand, strong and
shapely, placed among the flower-pots on the window-sill a milk-white
glass filled with blue flowers: it was her spring bouquet, which the
doctor had thus removed from his writing-table.
She paused, startled by the thought that in her heedlessness she had
placed herself in a false position. Evidently he regarded the placing
of the flowers on his writing-table as an officious act on the part of a
thoughtless, forward young girl. With her eyes shining with
ill-suppressed tears of indignation, she extended her hand to the
window. The gesture attracted the doctor's attention; he looked up.
"Will you be so kind as to hand me out my flowers, Doctor Bruck? they
belong to me; I laid them down for a moment and forgot them," she said,
with difficulty preserving her self-possession.
For one moment he seemed to be startled by the sound of the voice so
unexpectedly addressing him. Perhaps he was annoyed that Kitty had
observed him; but, if so, he instantly suppressed the sensation, and
said, kindly, "I will bring you the flowers." His deep, quiet voice
disarmed her immediately: he had not meant to wound her.
A moment afterwards he came down the steps. His figure, with its broad
shoulders and erect carriage, and the fine bearded face, belonged of
right, it seemed, to a soldier, and should have been clad in uniform,
were it only the green coat of a forester, He handed the glass to the
young girl, with a courteous inclination.
She took out the flowers. "They are the first little determined things
that were in a great hurry to get out into the sharp April air," she
said, with a smile. "They need to be searched for, but, when found, are
worth a whole hot-house full of plants." He certainly could not suppose
now that she had so far presumed upon their future relationship as to
ornament his writing-table.
His aunt appeared at the open window, and begged the young girl to
repeat her visit frequently.
"Fraeulein Kitty is going back to Dresden in a few weeks," the doctor
answered instantly in Kitty's stead.
She was startled. Was he afraid lest she should enlighten the
unsuspicious old lady as to his strange relations with his betrothed?
The idea troubled her, but chiefly because of the sorrow which she saw
he must lock up within his own breast. And she could not reassure him.
"I shall stay longer, Herr Doctor," she rejoined, gravely. "It may be
that my stay in Moritz's house will be prolonged for months. You, as
Henriette's physician, can best say how many may pass before I can leave
my invalid sister without anxiety and return to my foster-parents."
"You propose to devote yourself to Henriette?"
"Of course," she replied. "It is a great pity that hitherto she has
been left entirely to the care of strangers. The poor child passes
nights of suffering entirely alone, rather than summon attendants whose
sleepy, sullen faces irritate her diseased, sensitive nerves; and,
besides, her pride rebels against any confession of dependence upon her
inferiors. This must not be so any longer. I shall stay with her."
"You do not know the task you would undertake: Henriette is very
ill,"--he passed his hands slowly over his forehead, so that his eyes
were hidden for a moment,--"there will be many a long weary hour to live
through."
"I know it," she said, softly. "But I have courage----"
"That I do not doubt," he interrupted her. "I have perfect faith in
your patience as well as in your compassion; but no one can tell how
long it may be before the invalid----will need no further care. And
therefore I cannot advise your undertaking the case so positively; you
could not endure the physical strain."
"I?" Involuntarily she held out her arms and looked down at them with a
proud smile. "Do not your fears seem groundless even to yourself, Herr
Doctor, when you look at me?" she asked, gaily. "I am strong and well:
in constitution like my grandmother Sommer, who was a peasant's--a
woodcutter's--child, running barefoot in the fields and wielding the axe
better than her brothers,--Susie has often told me."
He looked from her towards the open window, where his aunt, half hidden
behind her flowers, was lost in admiration of the young girl; his face
grew dark.
"The question is not one of the force and endurance of muscles," he
said, obviously to end all discussion. "Such duties as you propose to
fulfil act most disastrously upon the nervous system. However," he
suddenly interrupted himself, "it is not my part to influence your
resolutions. That is your guardian's affair. Moritz must decide, and
will probably see that you return to your home in Dresden at the
appointed time." These last words were spoken with a hard emphasis not
at all in accordance with the doctor's usual gentle composure.
His aunt involuntarily withdrew a step from the window; Kitty stood
still. "But why are you so decided, Herr Doctor? Why do you desire
that Moritz should control me so strictly?" she asked, with great
gentleness. "Am I desirous of doing any thing wrong? Ought Moritz to
use his authority to prevent me from fulfilling my sisterly duty? I
think not. But there is a way out of the dilemma. Let Henriette go
with me to Dresden. There my dear Frau Doctor will share with me the
charge of her, and that will not harm my nerves." She smiled slightly.
"Well, I will try so to arrange it," he said, decidedly.
"Then I give you my word to be up and away as soon as possible," she
rejoined, just as decidedly, with a meaning look, before which his
glance fell as though he had been detected in some injustice.
His aunt suddenly leaned from the window and looked him wonderingly in
the face,--he was so strangely silent. He stood plucking some withered
vine-leaves from the trellis where they had lodged in falling from the
vine, and did not open his lips.
"Do you so ardently desire to go?" the old lady asked the girl, kindly,
but with some embarrassment.
Kitty drew her veil, which had fallen upon her neck, over her head
again, and knotted it beneath her chin. Her face looked like a fresh
peach-blossom amid the folds of lace. "Ought I to say 'no' for
politeness' sake, madame?" she asked, smiling, in reply. "I think I
have had the best of training, but nothing will eradicate certain
prejudices and individualities from the hidden corners of my nature. I
feel just the same repulsion for my sisters' grandmother to-day as when,
years ago, my father used to command me to kiss her hand; hence I
constantly come into collision with all kinds of irritating causes which
do not exist for others, and which tormented and worried me as a child.
And how chilly it has grown in my father's house!"--she
shivered,--"there is too much marble beneath my feet; and Moritz has
become so frightfully distinguished,"--two roguish dimples appeared in
her cheeks,--"I am positively startled and mortified at the sight of my
simple undecorated visiting-card. Yes, dear madame, I shall be very
glad to return to Dresden, provided Henriette may accompany me;
otherwise,"--she turned to the doctor, and the playfulness of her tone
was changed to quiet resolution,--"otherwise, I shall do my best to
conform myself to my present surroundings, and to remain, even although
Moritz should attempt to force me to return to Dresden."
She bade a kindly farewell to the old lady, courtesied slightly to the
doctor, and left the garden to go to the castle mill, although twilight
was at hand.