“Beauty, my dear, is a matter of taste. Theodor does not deny her having regular features, but it is exactly that which he cannot admire; he says there is something statue-like in her whole appearance, a certain proud expression in the drawn-down corners of her mouth—in short, he said she was a person a man could admire, but never love. There is a great difference, as you will understand a few years hence.”
“I should like to know,” said Crescenz, somewhat impatiently, “I should like to know if I shall be as much changed by marriage as you are, Lina! I am sure I hope not; for, instead of springing about or talking good-humouredly as you used to, you are always lecturing and calling me child, which, I must say, is very disagreeable. I shall soon be sixteen years old, and married too; and I won’t be called child any longer.”
“I vow, Cressy, you have taken a lesson from your sister, and are working yourself into a passion. The Doctor says child to me very often, and I am not at all offended; but instead of quarrelling, you ought to try and amuse me, as I am your guest to-day. Where are Hildegarde and Mr. Hamilton?”
“They are studying German with Mr. Biedermann.”
“I know that already; but where are they?”
“In Mr. Hamilton’s room.”
“Indeed! Oh, then, we may go there too, I suppose?”
“Better not—they left this room on account of the interruptions; and mamma has desired me not to go there.”
“Very proper as a general rule; but when I am here to chaperon you, the case is different.”
“I don’t think I ought to go,” said Crescenz, drawing back.