“And he certainly was looking up here when I first observed him,” persisted Madame Berger. “Pray what sort of a person is this Mademoiselle de Hoffmann? Has anyone seen her?”
“Walburg has seen her,” replied Crescenz, “and she says she is not at all pretty; but the servants say she is very amiable and an excellent housekeeper.”
“Probably not young,” observed Madame Berger, arranging her ringlets at the glass—“probably not young, if she be amiable and a good housekeeper; these qualities belong to riper years.”
“She is not very young, I believe.”
“I thought as much,” cried Madame Berger, laughing, “and he is certainly not thirty—do you think he is?”
“He seems to be young,” said Crescenz, peeping carefully from behind the muslin curtain.
“Crescenz, come away from the window,” said Hildegarde, authoritatively; “it is not right to watch anybody in that way.”
“Well, Cressy, I can now congratulate you from my heart on your approaching marriage,” said Madame Berger, maliciously, “for I can assure you Major Stultz will not require half so much obedience from you as Hildegarde; your marriage will be quite a relief from thraldom.”
“You are right,” said Crescenz, colouring. “Hildegarde certainly does treat me as if I were a child,” and she walked resolutely towards the window as she spoke.
“You are now acting like a child, and a silly child into the bargain,” cried Hildegarde, with evident annoyance, as she left the room.