Crescenz pulled her sleeve, and whispered: “Don’t say he gave it to you.”
Hildegarde shook off her sister’s hand, while she said, “The book is mine: he gave it to me; and if I may read it, I may keep it, I suppose.”
“You may do no such thing,” cried her mother, with considerable irritation. “Should Count Raimund come to-morrow, I shall return him his book, and request him to keep the remainder of his library for his own perusal. He would have done better had he given it to his betrothed instead of you: and I shall tell him so.”
“I see you are determined to affront him,” said Hildegarde, angrily; “and, as you mean to return this book to-morrow, I may as well tell you that I shall not go to bed to-night until I have read every line of it.”
“Hildegarde! Hildegarde! I am afraid you are about to have one of your old fits of anger and obstinacy. It is unpardonable your being so childish, now that you are near seventeen years old! However, since you are a child, I must treat you as one; and you shall not have more candle than will light you to bed.”
Hildegarde put the book into her pocket, shoved her chair hastily back, and walked towards the stove. Major Stultz, while wishing Crescenz good-night, observed, in an audible whisper, “What a lucky man am I that you have fallen to my lot!”
Madame Rosenberg accompanied him out of the room, first stopping at the door to say to Hildegarde and Crescenz, “You must not think that I am actuated by personal dislike to Count Raimund if to-morrow I forbid him our house—he is a most dangerous person—has brought dishonour on two respectable families, and his last exploit was going off with the wife of one of his friends.”
Crescenz seemed utterly confounded by this speech, and turned to her sister, while she said, “Oh, Hildegarde! if this be true!”
“It is true.”
“Why, you praised him just now, and——”