Once more it was an offering of flowers and once more the prince’s visiting-card was attached to the bouquet. A shade of vexation passed over Helmer’s face. He felt a twofold annoyance: in the first place, at this importunate homage, and in the second place, because he was annoyed ... was it jealousy?
“I will leave you now. You must collect your thoughts, and you need rest, Franka.”
“Good-bye, then, for now. I thank you again.”
“Shall you wear these violets this evening?”
“I always wear violets.”
“If you marry this prince, Franka, then it is all up with your career.”
“What are you thinking about? The prince in his position cannot marry any one of humble rank; he is not imagining such a thing.”
“What is he imagining, then?”
“I don’t know you, Helmer. Hitherto you have never interfered with my private affairs.”
“Forgive my presumption. I shan’t do so any more.” He turned to go.