"Yes, I heard something to that effect at Ehrenbergs'."
"But I haven't got the estate yet, you see. It is simply in the stage of negotiations."
"And where are you going to buy one? if it is not a rude question."
"Where the foxes say good-night to each other. The last place you would think of. On the Hungarian-Croatian frontier, very lonely and remote but very remarkable. I have a certain sympathy for the district. Youthful memories. I spent three years there as a lieutenant. Of course I think I shall grow young again there. Well, who knows?"
"A fine property?"
"Not bad. I saw it again two months ago. I knew it of course in the old days, it then belonged to Count Jaczewicz, finally to a manufacturer. Then his wife died. He now feels lonely down there and wants to get rid of it."
"I don't know," said George, "but I imagine the neighbourhood a little melancholy."
"Melancholy! Well, it seems to me that at a certain period of one's life every neighbourhood acquires a melancholy appearance." And he looked round the balcony, as though to evolve from his surroundings a new proof of the truth of his words.
"At what period?"
"Well, when one begins to get old."