A sort of compromise was made. The soup and boiled beef were allowed, but the ice-cream and several kinds of cakes were to be forthwith fabricated. Madame Lustig was, like most Germans in her station in life, an excellent cook; she was also a good-humoured, thoughtless person, and soon became quite as unrestrained as her young companions. Her cap and false curls were laid aside, her sleeves tucked up, a capacious white apron bound over her black silk dress, and she was immediately employed in beating up eggs and pounding sugar. Hamilton amused himself singing aloud the cookery-book in recitative, until, in the course of time, he was duly established with Hildegarde near a window in the corridor, a large bucket of ice between them, in which was placed the pail containing the cream. They turned it round alternately, and Crescenz occasionally inspected the process, dancing with delight as it began to freeze.
“Oh, dear! how nice! I hope it will not melt before Lina Berger comes. Is this window cool enough?”
“Cool!” said Hildegarde, laughing; “try it for a few minutes, and you will say cold, I think.”
“Could you not spare Mr. Hamilton for a little while, Hildegarde? We want him to pound sugar; our arms positively ache, and Walburg is not yet come back from market.”
Hildegarde made no objection, and Hamilton was conducted back to the kitchen, from whence, immediately, repeated bursts of laughter issued.
The arrival of Madame Berger seemed to increase the noise; she closed the kitchen-door, but Hildegarde distinctly heard the words: “Congratulate—freedom for one day at least—make good use—amusement—Hildegarde—hush.” A short whispering ensued, and at length Madame Lustig made her appearance, inspected the ice-cream, and proposed putting it outside the window. “There is no use in your tormenting yourself longer, my dear,” she said, smiling; “we have something else to interest us; come, we must hold a consultation.”
“About what?” asked Hamilton.
“About a masquerade; were you ever at one?”
“Oh, yes, at school we had one almost every year; I was always ordered to be a Greek or a Circassian.”
“Ah, that was children’s play among ourselves; but I mean a real masquerade!”