“Your very humble servant, Fräulein Garlett. Do you remember me?”
Franka offered him her hand. “Certainly, Baron Malhof. It is a pleasure to meet with a fellow-countryman.”
“Pray do not hasten on. You have no idea who is sitting in the next marquee ... you must not meet them without being forewarned....”
“Who is it?”
“That I must prepare your mind for by slow degrees. Let us walk for a few moments in the opposite direction and talk about old times. May I offer you my arm?”
Franka accepted. “You are really comical, Baron Malhof. Old times! We can scarcely be said to share youthful recollections.... We have met just twice, and the first time certainly under rather painful circumstances. The second time at Sielenburg was more agreeable.”
“Well, now it must be agreeable, too. What a change has taken place in your fate, Fräulein Franka! First, a poor deserted orphan; next, one of the wealthiest heiresses in the country; and now, in addition, a European reputation! And as beautiful as ever ... yet your features have changed ... there is something melancholy in your face. Are you happy?”
“Forever that question! Must one be happy?”
“Yes, one must if circumstances permit it, as in your case they do—rather, demand it. Or are you cast down by an unhappy love-affair?”
Franka laughed. “No, I am not in love with any one.”