“I hope you have no thoughts of being a nun anywhere,” observed the Major.
“I should have no objection to such a confessor,” said Hildegarde; “I rather prefer one who has something imposing in his appearance; it gives me the idea that he is above the weaknesses of human nature.”
“What nonsense you talk, Hildegarde!” cried Madame Rosenberg, with evident irritation. “It is only a spirit of contradiction which makes you pretend to admire a man who has been so disagreeable and uncivil to us all.”
Hildegarde walked more slowly, and Zedwitz, who had been lingering behind, immediately joined her.
“So you like stern-looking men!” he observed, in a low voice.
“I said I liked a confessor who had something imposing in his manner.”
“Oh! for a confessor merely? But for a friend, a lover, or a husband, you prefer something quite different, don’t you?”
“Perhaps I should,” she answered carelessly.
“Or, perhaps,” said Hamilton, “you think of entering the nunnery here out of pure admiration for that long, gaunt man! There is no accounting for taste.”
“I do not intend to take the veil until you have become a monk.”