“Oh, my dear father ... I fear I do not know him as I should.”
Gwendoline went on to explain that she had never lived very much in her father’s society. In her childhood, she had been almost entirely in her grandmother’s hands, as her mother had died when she was born; and then, when six years ago the grandmother died, the child, then eleven, was entrusted to a Swiss Pensionat, from which only the year before she had returned to her own country. In this excellent Pensionat she had received the usual education of young ladies—that is to say, to take a part rather in dancing than in thinking. She had got only one idea there of the Woman Movement—that it was a far from elegant aberration of high-strung females. What Franka had said about it was a revelation to her. Now she felt she must and would accomplish something—Miss Garlett must instruct and advise her further.
Franka now felt obliged to tear herself away from this interview. She was expecting a caller. She kissed the eager young disciple, whose attitude toward her filled her with joyous pride. “To-morrow we will talk further about this, my dear girl; I must go now.”
She summoned Frau von Rockhaus and went with her to her rooms. Shortly afterwards Prince Victor Adolph was announced. Franka went forward to greet him. Frau Eleonore, who was sitting near the window, stood up and curtseyed, but immediately resumed her seat, for the call did not concern her.
Franka’s heart began to beat more quickly. “Helmer is to blame for this,” said she to herself with vexation.
After the first interchange of greetings and after they had sat down the prince said:—
“Permit me to enter in medias res without delay, and ask you the questions which I have on my mind.”
He did not speak loud. Frau von Rockhaus, who from her remote corner was visible de profil perdu, could not hear what was said.
“Well, I am ready to listen,” said Franka, and raised her eyes to her visitor.
Once more she realized that she had never seen a handsomer and more elegant man than this young prince. Yet, in his attitude there was a certain haughty, peculiarly unbending reserve—more noticeable if possible than ever. It was as if something had annoyed him.