“Lina Berger talks great nonsense,” said Hildegarde, with heightened colour. “This is, however, worse than nonsense.”
“And yet she could give you some good advice, if you choose to listen to her,” observed Crescenz, nodding her head sagaciously.
“I do not require any advice from a person I so thoroughly dislike and despise.”
“Oh, that’s just the same with her; she says she always disliked you, but that she despises you now that you have fallen in love with Theodor Biedermann!”
“What an absurd idea!” said Hildegarde, contemptuously. “Marie de Hoffmann has already told me something of that kind.”
“Lina told me long ago that Mr. Biedermann did not think you at all handsome!”
“That I think very probable,” said Hildegarde.
“And she says now, he is just the person to teach you not to fall in love without provocation!”
“I think he is more likely to teach me to write German grammatically,” answered Hildegarde, with a careless laugh.
“And do you really not care for anybody, and you a whole year older than I am!” exclaimed Crescenz, with unfeigned astonishment. “Lina first thought you liked Mr. Hamilton, until I assured her you hated him. Then she said you had taken a wild kind of fancy to our cousin Oscar. Then she thought you were pretending to like Count Zedwitz on account of his rank and——”