“She has lived in Vienna since she was a child.”
“It is in the blood then, I suppose. Look at her fair hair, all blowing about. She is not like one of us.”
“Oh no, she is not.”
“That she is very pretty, I quite admit,” said Lotta. “Those soft gray eyes are delicious. Is it not a pity she has no eyebrows?”
“But she has eyebrows.”
“Ah! you have been closer than I, and you have seen them. I have never danced with her, and I cannot see them. Of course they are there—more or less.”
After a while the dancing ceased, and Adela Bruhl came up into the supper-room, passing the seats on which Fritz and Lotta were sitting.
“Are you not going to dance, Fritz?” she said, with a smile, as she passed them.
“Go, go,” said Lotta; “why do you not go? She has invited you.”
“No; she has not invited me. She spoke to us both.”