“Zimmermann said they were certainly English, and he understands the language. The lady thanked him in French for extricating her out of the snow; he says she was quite English-looking, and uncommonly handsome!”
“I have no doubt of his judgment on that subject,” said Hamilton.
“And,” said Crescenz, “her husband seemed so fond of her, and said all sorts of things to her when he assisted her into the sledge again!”
“All sorts of things!” cried Hamilton, laughing; “such as, for instance——”
“Oh, I cannot say the English words—I have never heard you say anything that sounded like them.”
“Of course not—I must wait until I have a wife, I suppose.”
Hildegarde’s face had flushed during this conversation. Hamilton seemed so much amused with it, that he forgot the overture he had been so anxious to hear. “Your friend did not know at all who they were?” he asked, bending over his tea-cup.
“Not in the least,” answered Major Stultz; “but the lady made a great impression on Zimmermann, he seemed altogether to have fallen in love with her?”
“Oh, ho!” exclaimed Mr. Rosenberg, “what did his wife say to that?”
“She said she had no cause for jealousy, the Englishwoman did not look at anyone—she only seemed anxious to assure her husband that she was not in the least hurt, though she must have been considerably bruised, and she appeared to wish everyone else at the bottom of the sea! A good example for you, Crescenz, next month, eh?”