“By no means—certainly not,” cried Zedwitz, with a vehemence incomprehensible to Hamilton; “joining hands for the purpose of joining estates is not at all to my taste.”
“I should suppose not,” observed Hamilton, carelessly; and a long pause ensued. At length Zedwitz observed, abruptly: “My parents are anxious for me to quit the army, and marry; and, yet, I am convinced, that when I propose doing so they will object to the person I have chosen. In spite of my ugliness, or rather, perhaps, on account of it, personal beauty has a value in my eyes beyond what it deserves. I could not marry an ugly woman—could you?”
“I have never thought much on the subject,” replied Hamilton, laughing. “My parents have strictly forbidden all such thoughts on my part for the next ten years at least.”
They now began to cross the shallow part of Seon Lake, on a narrow, wooden bridge, so narrow that it was inconvenient for more than two persons to walk abreast. When they had reached the slope leading up to the church on the other side, Hamilton suddenly stopped and asked Count Zedwitz what “Hildegarde had said to him at dinner which had so effectually silenced him?”
“She told me not to speak to her, as she could not answer me.”
“Was that all?”
“But she gave me some hope that she would tell me why on some future occasion, and I was satisfied.”
“There is some mystery in the family! Don’t you think so?” asked Hamilton.
“I am quite convinced of it. Those poor girls seem very unhappily situated. I really pity them.”
“I both pity and admire them,” cried Hamilton; “and moreover, I am exceedingly anxious to find out this same mystery. Let us start fair and see who will first obtain information.”