Franka made the best of a bad business. It was really disagreeable to her to meet again those three, especially here in this place, where a spirit prevailed which could not fail to be incomprehensible to them; ... however, when all was said, they were her people. Her people? What a false expression. How little she belonged to them. “To whom do I belong, I’d like to know?” Franka asked herself and a chill crept around her heart....
“Really, then, you are willing to be precipitated head over heels into the inevitable? That is true courage!”
A few minutes later the two entered the marquee. The meeting was rather stiff and constrained. Their paths had gone so far asunder! And, moreover, they had never been so very congenial. There was an exchange of greetings, but no heartiness could be felt or feigned; then they talked indifferently of the journey, of the festival week, and the like. Countess Adele invited Franka to sit down with them.
“Tell us how things are going with you and what you are doing. Do you speak this evening?”
“No,” replied Franka, as she took a seat beside her aunts. “I do not give my address until to-morrow.”
“And do you not feel alarmed? It is incomprehensible to me what you are doing.... Tell me, is the Helmer who is here, the one....”
Franka anticipated the question: “Yes, grandpapa’s former secretary. He has grown to be a world-famous poet.”
“I should never have believed it of him,” remarked Albertine.
“And I should never have believed that you, my respected aunts, would ever dream of such a thing as making a journey to the Rose-Festival. I really believe you were never out of Austria. Did you come in an airship?”
“That would be the last thing!” cried Countess Adele with horror. “I would never go in such a machine as long as I lived.... What has become of your companion?”