“Yes, Theodor Biedermann; but with him she will find all her arts and vehemence useless. He scarcely even allows her to be good-looking!”
“I think you are altogether mistaken about her,” began Hamilton. “I never perceived the slightest——”
“You have been absent more than three weeks,” said Madame Berger, interrupting him. “If I have made a right guess, Hildegarde will receive a severe lesson, which I hope may be of use to her.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean that Theodor will treat her love with the scorn which it deserves.”
Hamilton shook his head and laughed—rather ironically.
“How long are we to continue in the dark?” asked Mr. Rosenberg from the other end of the room. “Pray, Babette, let us have at least a pair of candles, that we may not be blinded when your tree dazzles our astonished eyes!”
The candles were unwillingly granted, and Madame Rosenberg left the room mysteriously with Madame Lustig.
“Come here, boys,” cried Mr. Rosenberg. “Let us take our station near the door, that we may enter first.”
Doctor Berger came towards Hamilton, and began a conversation about the different ways of celebrating Christmas in different countries, and the habit of giving presents at that time or on New Year’s Day, while Hamilton’s eyes involuntarily strayed towards Hildegarde, who, sitting at the other end of the room with Count Raimund and Mademoiselle de Hoffmann, was speaking eagerly with the latter, all unconscious that her cousin was gazing at her with an emotion which his sanguine temperament betrayed in rapid changes of colour, although he did not seem to take any part in the conversation.