“Yes, sir.”
Perhaps the fear of being questioned induced Hamilton when returning to pass the others so quickly that he did not hear their cries to him to stop and return to Nymphenburg. Perhaps the wish to be once more alone with his companion for half an hour made him urge his horses to their hardest trot: if the latter had been his object, his annoyance may be conceived when, on reaching home, just as they had begun to ascend the stairs together, gayly laughing, he perceived Count Raimund standing above them. He had seen their arrival from the Hoffmanns’ window, and rushed out under pretence of a joke, but, in reality, to waylay them. Hamilton could not conceal his vexation; he frowned, and muttered the words “Everlasting bore!” which made Hildegarde’s countenance change in a manner that irritated her cousin. “Hildegarde, I must speak to you,” he began abruptly.
“Speak on,” she said, continuing to ascend the stairs.
“I must ask you a question—and—we must be alone.”
“You are peremptory—ask differently, and per—haps I may comply with your request.”
Count Raimund grasped—not gently—his cousin’s arm—she turned round—became very pale—and requested Hamilton, in a low voice, to go up stairs—she would follow him directly.
“Do you really wish me to go?” he asked, hesitatingly. “Do you remain willingly with your cousin? Remember,” he added indignantly, “the nearest relationship cannot authorise such——”
Count Raimund made a violent gesture—Hildegarde placed herself between them, and said hurriedly, “I—I do wish to speak to Oscar,” and Hamilton instantly left them.
Directly he was gone her manner totally changed. “Your question, Oscar, and quickly,” she said, haughtily, “I have no intention of remaining on the cold staircase more than a few minutes.”
“Gently, gently, Hildegarde—you think the danger is over now your treasure is out of sight—but you see how ready he is to quarrel, with all his coolness—be careful, for——”