“Perhaps I was a little,” said Madame Berger, with an affectation of repentive pensiveness. “After all, Mademoiselle de Hoffmann is a good-natured, a most inoffensive person!”
“She is sensible and well-informed, too,” said Hamilton, warmly.
“You take your opinion from Hildegarde, who you know has no medium. Pray don’t ask her what she thinks of me, that’s all. See, she will not offer us any cake this time, because we took no notice of her when she passed before.”
“I did not see her,” said Hamilton; “I believe I was admiring the ring which you told me had been given you by one of the Doctor’s patients.”
“But the ring was still on my finger, and perhaps she thought——”
“What?” asked Hamilton, laughing, as he followed Hildegarde, and obtained the piece of cake which he requested. Madame Lustig, who did not perceive his vicinity, observed to Dr. Berger, “Your wife is getting on at a great rate with that young Englishman to-night.”
“It’s a way she has,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, “opposition only makes her worse, so I generally pretend not to see her. At all events, I have discovered long ago that the Englishman’s heart and thoughts are elsewhere, even when he is apparently completely engrossed in my Lina.”
Hamilton looked at Hildegarde, and thought he perceived something like a smile playing around the corners of her mouth as she turned away; he walked slowly to his seat, and began to eat his cake with an earnestness which soon became offensive to his lively neighbour.
“I suppose she forbade you talking anymore to me?” she observed, after some time.
“Do you mean Madame Lustig?”