“But, Hildegarde,” cried Crescenz, turning round with unexpected energy, “before we went to the ball, do you remember, when I told you that Lina Berger had said that Mr. Hamilton might still be my scha——”
Hildegarde’s two hands closed over her mouth, and the word was stifled in utterance. “Good gracious! I quite forgot he was still here,” she cried, making a slight effort to laugh, and then running out of the room.
A long pause ensued. Hildegarde began to arrange the cups and saucers on a tray, until Hamilton, without looking up, asked her if she could remember the very time when her opinion of him had changed.
“Perfectly; it was the night of Crescenz’s quarrel with Major Stultz. Your explanations by moonlight in our room were upright and honourable.”
“And you forgave my having flirted with her at Seon?”
“Yes; and I forgave your having tried to do the same with me here.”
“The case is totally different,” began Hamilton.
“There is some difference, I allow,” said Hildegarde; “you warned me so well, that it would have been inexcusable my not understanding you—besides, I had the advantage of hearing from Count Zedwitz, that you considered yourself at liberty to act as you pleased after having so fairly warned me.”
“Zedwitz’s love for you made him forget his friendship for me altogether,” said Hamilton, with some irritation.
“I do not blame your conduct to me,” said Hildegarde; “you wanted to improve yourself in German, and found quarrelling or flirting with me the most exciting method. I have profited by your society also, for I have not only learned to pronounce English, but,” she added, with an arch smile, “I begin to understand something of the art of flirting, too, of which, I do assure you, I knew nothing when our acquaintance began.”