“I suppose so, for some time after she left us again she married an ugly old doctor. Oh, he is so ugly! His chin sticks out so!” In explanation she thrust out her full red underlip, forming thereby a better personification of a pretty naughty child than an ugly old doctor. “I was allowed to be her bridesmaid,” she continued, “and as I knew all about Theodor, I asked her if she really were as happy as she seemed to be. And—can you believe it?—she said that all the fine things she had told me of Seon and first love was stuff and nonsense—that she had invited Theodor to her wedding, and intended to dance with him in the evening!”
“In fact, the affair with Theodor was merely a flirtation,” observed Hamilton.
“I don’t know what that means,” she answered, looking inquiringly in his face; “it is an English word, I suppose.”
“Quite English,” said Hamilton, laughing; “but your friend seems to have understood the meaning perfectly.”
“And yet she did not take any lessons in English,” said Crescenz, thoughtfully; “but I remember her saying to me at school that, if she could not marry Theodor, she would go into a nunnery! And then to be satisfied with ugly old Dr. Berger?”
“You would not have acted so?” inquired Hamilton.
She was about to answer, when her eyes caught that of the servant opposite to them; she coloured and remained silent. Hamilton had long thought this personage a bore, although she had been too much occupied with little Master Peppy to have heard much of their conversation. It suddenly, however, occurred to him to repeat his question in French, and this removed all difficulties, for the young lady spoke so remarkably fluently that the conversation proceeded more flowingly than before. From the specimen given, it may be supposed that a sufficient quantity of nonsense was talked; however, they contrived to amuse themselves so well that they actually drove up to the ci-devant monastery without having seen a chimney to warn them that their journey was drawing to a close. Crescenz’s step-mother was waiting to receive them, and overwhelmed Hamilton with thanks, while he, taken completely by surprise, had only time to whisper hurriedly to his travelling companion—“I shall certainly see you again, even if I should decide on leaving Seon to-morrow;” and, as he assisted her out of the carriage, he added, “We positively must try the cloisters by moonlight.”
But no answering smile played round her coral lips. Crescenz seemed to be metamorphosed. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than one glided gently behind the other, and a profound curtsy, such as very young ladies are taught to make by a dancing-master, was performed to his infinite astonishment; a few neat and appropriate words of thanks were added, which, had they not been accompanied by a burning blush, he would have considered the most consummate piece of acting he had ever witnessed. Hamilton bit his lip, and coloured deeply, as he mechanically followed the landlady through a side-door into the monastery.
He was conducted up a back staircase to a long corridor, at the end of which was a small passage leading into a tolerably large, cheerful room, to his great disappointment not bearing any perceptible marks of antiquity. On expressing some surprise, he was told that the monastery had been twice almost burnt to the ground, and that only some parts of the original building remained. His room was the most modern of all, and had been the apartment of the abbot before the secularisation.
“Have you many people staying here at present?” asked Hamilton.