Crescenz entered the garden while they were speaking, and blushed deeply as she passed them. Hamilton felt the blood mount to his temples, and turned away that Zedwitz might not observe it.
“This is the beginning of the comedy,” cried the latter, after a moment’s pause, touching Hamilton’s arm to make him look round. He turned, and, through the foliage of the arbour, saw Major Stultz clasping a massive gold bracelet on Crescenz’s arm. She appeared for a moment embarrassed and shy; then played with a padlock or heart, or some such thing which dangled from the bracelet, and finally she looked up at him and smiled.
“She is a thorough-bred coquette!” exclaimed Hamilton, indignantly. “Zedwitz, I throw down the gauntlet, and enter the list as your rival. I prefer running the chance of occasional chastisement from the fair hand of Hildegarde, to having anything more to do with such a silly, vain creature as this Crescenz seems to be.”
“Seems to be, Hamilton—and only seems. The circumstances must also be taken into consideration. She must marry this Stultz, whether she like him or not. That he is not the ideal of a girl of her age, one can easily imagine. He suspects this, perhaps, and wisely commences by giving her a handsome present. That is probably the first gold bracelet she has ever had clasped on her arm. She is very young—childish, if you will—but neither silly nor very vain for feeling a little pleasure, and honestly showing what she feels. I see nothing reprehensible in her conduct.”
“Had you but heard her last night telling me how unhappy she was!”
Zedwitz shrugged his shoulders.
“How she talked of his forty-six years, and declared her hatred of red-faced men!”
Zedwitz laughed.
“She mentioned, also, that her sister had the same antipathy.”
“Sorry to hear it,” cried Zedwitz, picking up a handful of flat pebbles and pitching them one by one with considerable skill into the lake, watching them skimming along the surface, with an interest that half provoked Hamilton.