“Your sister’s personal dislike seems to influence her judgment on all occasions,” said Hamilton, glancing towards Hildegarde, who, still seated in the same place, was watching them with evident dissatisfaction.
“Hildegarde, come and help me to put candles in the candlesticks,” cried Madame Rosenberg; “we cannot let our friends grope about in the dark any longer.”
Hildegarde rose; as she passed Hamilton, she said, in a low voice—
“For personal dislike, you may say detestation, when you refer to yourself in future.”
“Most willingly, most gladly,” cried Hamilton, laughing. “I wish you to hate me with all your heart.”
“Then your wish is gratified; I feel the greatest contempt——”
“Halt!” cried Hamilton, still laughing, for her anger amused him. “I did not give you leave to feel contempt; I only said you might hate as——”
“Hildegarde! Hildegarde!” cried Madame Rosenberg, impatiently—“Why, what on earth is the girl about?”
“Quarrelling as usual,” muttered Major Stultz, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh, she is not quarrelsome!” exclaimed Crescenz; “you don’t understand her; she is right—quite right.”