“Really?” exclaimed Franka, astonished, as she took Malhof’s arm and went with him. “I should never have believed it.”
At the other end of the hall sat the two old ladies and Coriolan.
“Here I come, bringing the conquering heroine,” said Malhof.
Countess Adele moved along on her sofa to give room for Franka. “You surprised me ... to talk so long at one stretch without stammering and with no paper in your hand ... that is remarkable. It is plain that you have had much practice. Aren’t you very tired?”
“I am a little used up.... I have been dreading all day the ordeal of speaking;—before so many people ... I mean those out in the wide world ... and also to a certain degree before you. I realize how little you approve of my speaking and of what I say.”
“Well, that is quite true,” said Aunt Albertine.
Coriolan wanted for once to be courteous: “Well, I must admit, your voice is very pleasant and you do look very beautiful.”
“But you ought to wear gloves,” remarked Albertine; “you notice, don’t you, that everybody wears gloves?”
Franka smiled. “But have you nothing to say about the subject of my address?”
“If you were to kill me,” replied Coriolan, “I could not tell you now what you talked about. I am incapable of following a lecture for five minutes consecutively.... I only know that you preached, girls ought to be like men, and men like girls ... and, truly, that is not to my taste. It would be a fine muddle—but it is the end and aim of all modern movements—the topsy-turvy world! Fortunately, it is not so easily turned topsy-turvy, and whatever you may talk—man remains man, and woman remains woman—and that is as it ought to be.”