“That compliment does not always sound flattering.”
“Oh, but you must have recognized from my tone how I mean it. Moreover, the way in which you spoke about Good Will, about Goodness, the rank that you assigned to that quality as a motor power for all spiritual elevation,—you see, I understood you,—proves to me that you would prize no compliment higher than this. Or would you have preferred that I had said ‘a clever man’? Applied to a world-renowned poet—that would have been tautology. And that term carries no warmth with it. When you say to any one, ‘You are good,’ that is equivalent to saying, ‘I thank you.’ It is as if you would cradle your head on his heart and say, ‘Oh, here—here is safety.’”
“Franka!”
Both were silent for a while, looking into each other’s eyes. What is that substance called which often goes bombarding back and forth between the steady eyes of a man and of a woman?—It has not as yet found its Madame Curie.
Frau von Rockhaus broke the spell by asking Helmer what the two rulers had conversed with him about. He informed her. And now the conversation turned for a while on the events of the evening. He also told them about his meeting with the engineer Juillot. Franka on her part gave an amusing description of her aunt’s last call. Now gayly, now seriously, the talk went from one subject to another and the time flew. Franka sprang up as the clock struck twelve.
“Midnight already! Now we must say goodnight.”
Helmer had also risen to his feet. “Forgive me for staying so outrageously long ... but it has been so lovely!”
“Yes, it has been lovely,” assented Franka.
Words of thanks and of farewell followed. Still talking, Franka took a few steps by Helmer’s side toward the door. Then suddenly she stepped on something soft, that lay on the floor—a little piece of orange-peel—and slipped. She would have fallen, had not Helmer caught her with his strong arm. Then only Franka uttered a little cry.
“Did you hurt yourself?”