“Circumstances might materially alter the state of the case,” said A. Z. “Suppose this flirtation with you quite over—you have left, most probably, without any sort of serious explanation; now I have no doubt you are very charming, but, you know, people do get over hopeless affairs of this kind in the course of time, and in the course of time, too, Maximilian will be at liberty to marry whoever he pleases. I cannot imagine his being refused again, he is so exactly the sort of man most women like.”
“He does not think so himself,” observed Hamilton.
“That is his great charm,” said A. Z. “Diffident enthusiastic men are almost always popular. I have a decided predilection for them.”
“I think, however, you are singular in your taste,” said Hamilton.
“Not at all,” rejoined A. Z.; “the secret may be that such men think less of themselves, and more of the person they wish to please; but in nine cases out of ten, you will find that it is an ugly man who inspires real affection. It is very creditable to our sex, you must allow; one so very seldom hears of a man who loves a really ugly woman.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Hamilton. “My experience has not been great. I only know that I am now very seriously, and, I fear, hopelessly in love with a very young and very beautiful woman.”
“You will get over it,” observed A. Z., laughing. “A few months in London, if it were not so late in the year——”
“You are mistaken,” said Hamilton, gravely; “neither a few months nor a few years either are likely to change my feelings.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” said A. Z., thoughtfully; “never will I sign a letter with my initials again.”
“I had quite forgotten that your note was the cause of all this evil,” said Hamilton, smiling, “but there would be no evil at all if Hildegarde liked me.”