“Handsome! she is perfectly beautiful!” cried Zedwitz; “and I am convinced she is as amiable as beautiful!”
“If you are convinced of that, you are very wrong to give her up as you are doing. Try what time and perseverance will do.”
“My dear Hamilton, if you had spoken to her, if you had even seen her when I pleaded my cause, you would think differently. When we meet again, it will be as common acquaintances. But every moment is precious, and I must now be off. I shall take post-horses at the next town, and hope to reach Seon in the afternoon. I hope most sincerely that my sister has had no opportunity of speaking to my father. I shall scarcely be at Seon when you return; but you know my address in Munich, and I shall expect to see you directly you arrive there. Adieu!”
He sprang into the carriage, bowed to the occupants of the breakfast-table, and drove off, while Hamilton, leaning against the door of the house, looked after him. “So,” he thought, “this is the man I fancied full of German romance and enthusiasm! Why, my brother John could not have resigned himself to his fate more easily; but then he would have made a parade of his indifference. Englishmen are fond of doing so, while Germans, I suspect, are disposed to pretend to more feeling than they possess. Yet, after all, what could he have done? Shoot himself, like Werter? Absurd? What should I have done? I have not the most remote idea; but, then, I have never got beyond temporary admiration for anyone. Very odd, too. Jack says he was in love before he was twelve years old. Precocious fellow! Zedwitz was right the other day when he said that my feelings and ideas were not those of a man of my time of life. However, I flatter myself that what I have lost in what he calls freshness of feeling, I have gained in other respects, and can now, in spite of my youth, calmly contemplate what is going on about me, while Zedwitz, so many years my senior, has been acting with all the rash impetuosity of a boy.”
In all the proud consciousness of premature knowledge of the world, Hamilton seated himself at the breakfast-table, and allowed Madame Rosenberg to pour out his coffee, and wonder without interruption what could be the matter with the Count, who, she insisted, had been quite well all the morning. His eyes glanced mischievously towards Hildegarde, but she apparently did not observe it. Madame Rosenberg now began deliberately to pack up the remaining sugar in her reticule. Half an hour later they were seated in the char-à-banc on their way to Salzburg. Zedwitz’s absence was greatly felt, for he was cheerful and good-natured. Hamilton had determined not even to look at Crescenz, while Hildegarde appeared to have formed the same resolution with regard to him. A sort of discontent seemed to pervade the whole party for some time, but by degrees it yielded to the beauty of the scenery. Madame Rosenberg, having once spent some months at Salzburg, was now able to name each mountain as it appeared in the fore-ground, or made itself remarkable by its form in the distance. But the Untersberg interested her two sons more than anything else. This mountain, which here rises abruptly out of Walser fields, and is of enormous extent, was, she told them, the prison and tomb of Frederick Barbarossa, or, as the peasants said, of Charlemagne. The questions and answers on this fruitful subject lasted until they reached Salzburg.
CHAPTER IX.
SALZBURG.
While waiting for dinner at the hotel, Hamilton amused himself turning over the leaves of the “strangers’ book,” and saw among the latest arrivals the name of an uncle he had wished much to meet when he had been last in Salzburg; he would then have been glad to have had an opportunity of presenting some respectable relations to Baron Z—, after the old manner in which their acquaintance had commenced. He now wished to see his relations from more natural motives, without either the wish or intention of making them acquainted with his travelling companions. There is something peculiarly agreeable in hearing the voices of one’s countrymen speaking one’s own language in a foreign country; even if they be merely common acquaintances, they rise at once to the rank of friends: if friends, to relations—if relations, we are astonished at the excess of our affection for them! Something of this kind Hamilton experienced as he heard his uncle saying, “A young gentleman inquiring for me! What is his name?” In a moment he had quitted the table, and was in the lobby before the question could be answered. The surprise, perhaps, heightened the pleasure felt by his two young and pretty cousins, and their reception of him was so unreservedly affectionate, that as they came near the door of the dining-room, Hildegarde and Crescenz exchanged glances, and then fixed their eyes on them with a slight expression of curiosity.
“What a pity you did not arrive earlier, Alfred; we have spent the whole morning sight-seeing, and now the horses are being put-to, and we have scarcely ten minutes to ask each other the thousand questions which——But come to our rooms—we cannot possibly talk before these people.”
“They would not understand us,” said Hamilton, following them up the stairs, by no means displeased with the arrangement.