“What is that?—‘better their condition’—believe me, your reverence, in the old days they were all far more content, the artisans as well as the peasants. My father and my grandfather always used to tell how much better things were before 1848 than they are now. The common people were under the protection of the nobles ... they were happy and satisfied and industrious, and they had no thought of the foolish nonsense which is now preached to them—equal rights and the like. They were far happier, indeed, they were. Moreover, times are growing worse and worse. A firm government must take a hand and lock up these pestilential babblers on the Franzensring—the Minister-President ought....”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Coriolan, don’t begin to talk politics again,” exclaimed Miss Albertine. “It is almost rude to do so in the presence of ladies. You know we are not interested in such things, because we don’t understand them at all, and we don’t want to understand them.”
“I am talking with the chaplain ... you are at liberty to talk about your own feminine trash....”
“Feminine trash, indeed! How coarse you are! I must tell you frankly that your manners often are very objectionable! Do not be offended with me, but I make the observation for your own best good.”
After luncheon Countess Schollendorf invited Franka to accompany her to her room.
“Here we shall be quite undisturbed.... There ... now tell me what you have to say.”
She had sunk down on her little sofa, near which stood a small work-table. She took up her knitting, for she was assiduous in her endeavors to provide the village children with knitted or crocheted caps and underwear. Franka took her seat in an armchair at the other side of the table. She was visibly agitated. Her mourning-gown accentuated the pallor of her face, and her mouth trembled slightly. It was not so easy for her to speak what was on her mind. To be sure, she had for several days gone over what she intended to say, and her intention was unshaken, but now, when the moment had come, she felt a certain awkwardness.
“Now let us have it. What is the matter with you? You look quite disturbed, and at table you did not speak a word ... are you not quite well? You look very pale. The way you dress your hair is not becoming to you ... you must have it done in some other way. When one has such a head of hair one should wear it in braids, otherwise it looks disheveled.”
“What I want to say to you, dear aunt, is this: I am going to Vienna to-morrow and I intend to take up my residence in my house on the Wieden and manage my own housekeeping. I shall take of the servants here only my maid; the rest may stay on with you, as I am going to leave you in charge of the Sielenburg so that you may manage it as long as you wish, just as you have done.”
Countess Schollendorf dropped the red woolen jacket with its one completed sleeve into her lap. She was speechless.