“Of course, I always defend the absent, especially when they are censured by people who do not know them. If Oscar had not been attacked this evening, I should never have attempted to take his part—Perhaps you don’t believe me?”
“I do believe you—but I cannot understand how Madame de Hoffmann could allow him to speak so freely.”
“She is very deaf and he was seated at the pianoforte; Marie at one side of him, and I at the other—he spoke very gently, and sometimes played a few chords, which gave the appearance of a sort of recitation. Exactly what I imagined an improvisatore must be! I am sure he would make an excellent actor!”
“And I am sure he will prove a dangerous man,” said Hamilton.
“If he keeps his promises, Marie will nevertheless be very happy with him—he is a person one must admire, and might easily love—but I am keeping you from writing, and I dare say you would rather hear what I have to say to-morrow.”
“By no means—if you have anything more to say, I should like to hear it.”
“Oh, yes, I want to speak to you—about myself, not Oscar.”
“A much more interesting subject,” observed Hamilton.
“But then,” said Hildegarde, hesitating, “you will probably give me some severe answer, and make me repent my humility.”
“I promise to give you no severe answer,” said Hamilton, exceedingly flattered.