“Go out and buy a globe, and don’t waste time looking at the fragments,” said Hamilton, impatiently to Walburg. “There is no necessity for saying anything about the matter.”
“But,” said Walburg, hesitatingly, and looking first at Crescenz, and then at Hamilton, “but I have no money.”
“Stupid enough my not thinking of that,” said Hamilton, taking out his purse.
“That is at least a florin too much,” cried Walburg, enchanted at his generosity.
“Never mind, run, run; keep what remains for yourself, but make haste.”
“Oh, indeed I cannot allow this,” said Crescenz faintly; “it would be very wrong—and——” but the door had already closed on the messenger.
“Suppose, now—mamma should come,” said Crescenz, uneasily.
“Not at all likely, as everyone is drinking tea.”
The drawing-room door opened, and the gay voices of the assembled company resounded in the passage.
“I knew it, I knew it; she is coming,” cried Crescenz;—but it was only Hildegarde, who brought the empty teapot to refill it.