They reached Frankfort the next day, just in time to dine at the table d’hôte; but Hildegarde’s appearance caused so many inquiries, that Hamilton followed her to her room to advise her not dining there in future.
“I shall scarcely be here to-morrow,” she said, pushing back her bonnet, while she rummaged a little writing-desk for some paper. “Oh! here it is,” she added, “Hortense’s letter of introduction. I am sure you will be so kind as to go with me to find out the house of this lady—this Baroness Waldorf!”
“Who?” cried Hamilton.
“Baroness Waldorf.”
“Why did you not tell me it was to her you were going?”
“Because I did not think it could interest you in any way—I never heard you speak of her. Have you seen her? Do you know anything about her?”
“I met her at Edelhof—Zedwitz is guardian to her daughter.”
“Oh, tell me something about her,” cried Hildegarde, eagerly, to Hamilton’s surprise quite indifferent to the latter part of his speech. “Tell me all you know about her. Is she a person to whom I am likely to become attached?”
“I don’t know—I rather think not. Oh, Hildegarde, let me advise you, as a friend, to give up this plan altogether, and go back to your step-mother—If you would only listen to me patiently for ten minutes——”
“I cannot listen to you,” said Hildegarde, interrupting him, “for I have made an engagement—a promise to remain a whole year, under all circumstances, with the Baroness Waldorf. She would not make any other sort of agreement, as she is going to Florence for the winter. She alone can release me from this promise—but I cannot say I wish it, as I rather enjoy the idea of going to Italy.”