Franka went to him with quick steps, knelt on the footstool that was placed near his chair, and kissed the hand he offered her: “Grandfather! How kind of you!”
He laid his hand on her head, and bent her face back.
“So it is! you are the living picture of your poor mother. Remarkable! I hope, however, you will not resemble her in all respects ... at least, that you will not also run away out of this with some young rascal....”
Franka sprang up.
“Count ... this can be no home for me, where my father is to be insulted.”
“There, there! not so fast! I like it in you, that you spring to the defense of your beloved father. I beg your pardon. Besides, I did not mean anything so very bad. The word ‘rascal’ in my mouth carries no insult—I myself was one when I was young, and I should be very glad if any one would call me an old rascal now—but here I must sit, tied down to this chair.... ‘Count!’ I will not let you scold me that way; just say, as you did so prettily a moment ago,—‘Grandfather.’ ... And I have still another thing to ask your forgiveness for: that it was so long before I took any notice of you.... That was cruel to you and cruel to the memory of my daughter.... She made a mistake ... but of all mistakes is not implacability one of the worst and stupidest?—So, little girl, be forgiving ... call me ‘Grandfather’ ... that is right; a great French poet has written a book entitled ‘L’Art d’être Grandpère.’”
“Yes, Victor Hugo,” assented Franka, nodding.
“You seem to be well read.... Now, you see, I am beginning rather late to learn that art, but I shall be an industrious scholar.—And now, will you be conducted to your room? I feel ill again ... a real cross sickness is ... go, dear child.”
Franka was about to bend over the old gentleman’s hand to kiss it again, but he lifted her head up and imprinted a kiss on her brow.
An hour later Franka had already finished the unpacking of her possessions; she had disposed her books and photographs, and this communicated a somewhat cozy appearance to the long unoccupied chamber, with its stiff, old-fashioned furniture. It was an enormous room with four windows looking down into the park. Gay-flowered chintz covered the chairs and sofas and the same material served as hangings for the windows and the curtains of the bed. Adjoining was a little toilet-room and bathroom. Next to this was the chamber of a maid whose services were at the disposal of the “gnädiges Fräulein.”