“Well, I am ready to praise him again; and yet it is true. He intends, however, henceforward to lead a different life, and honestly confessed all his misdemeanours to Marie de Hoffmann and to me this evening. He did not spare himself, I can assure you!”
“His confession must have been very edifying,” observed Hamilton.
“It was very amusing,” replied Hildegarde, slightly laughing. “He related with such spirit, described such comical situations, and begged Mademoiselle de Hoffmann to forgive his thoughtlessness with such fervour, that she was not only obliged to pardon him, but also forced to confess that perhaps others would not have acted differently, had they been subjected to the same temptations.”
“He seems to have proved himself a sort of victim,” said Hamilton, without looking up.
“Almost,” said Hildegarde. “He was given all sorts of encouragement by the young ladies, who met him alone, and Madame de Sallenstein actually herself proposed going off with him.”
“He told you that, and the names also?”
“Certainly; he did not conceal the slightest circumstance, related all the conversations and adventures—no book could be more amusing! His first love was a daughter of a Captain Welden—there were four daughters, and they all took a fancy to him at the same time—the youngest was much the prettiest, and so——”
“Excuse my interrupting you,” cried Hamilton, “but really I cannot endure to hear you talk in this light manner—Count Raimund must be a fiend incarnate, if he can change you so completely in one day!”
“Indeed, I do think Hildegarde is changed,” chimed in Crescenz: “I never heard her talk so oddly before—and oh, Hildegarde, do you remember how hardly you judged Mr. Hamilton, when you only suspected that he—that I—I mean we—on account of Major Stultz, you know? Oh, think of all you said in Berchtesgaden!”
Crescenz’s eloquence did not seem to make much impression on Hildegarde—she merely shook her head impatiently.