"How improper to take one's life in so public a manner!"
"If there were no horrid newspapers," whined the freezing court lady.
The conversation gradually assumed a more cheerful tone.
"Ah me!" exclaimed a pert and pretty court lady, "how we were all obliged to 'enthuse' about the beauties of nature and the genial traits of the lower orders during her life and reign. Now, I imagine one may at last venture to say that nature's a bore, and that the lower orders are horrid, without being regarded as a heretic."
In spite of the malice that flavored it, they found the remark both just and appropriate. In a little while they were all conversing and laughing, just as if nothing had happened.
A wanton boy has shot a sparrow. The rest of the flock are very sad, and pipe and prate about the matter for a while; but soon they hop about again, and chirrup as merrily as before.
To give truth its due, it is necessary to state that many of the ladies would have been glad to speak well of Irma, but they kept such feelings in the background. Of all things in the world they dreaded showing themselves sentimental.
It was not until Countess Brinkenstein again began to speak, that the rest of the company became more calm and dignified than they had been.
Countess Brinkenstein's demeanor seemed to say: "I am, unfortunately, the one who prophesied it all; and now that it has all come to pass as I said it would, I am not in the least proud of it." It was both her right and her duty to speak compassionately of Irma, and yet, at the same time, mildly to point a moral.
"Eccentricity. Ah, yes, eccentricity!" said she. "Poor Countess Wildenort! The publicity of her deed is, in itself, a serious offense; but do not let us, while thinking of her terrible fate, forget that she was undeniably possessed of many good traits. She was beautiful, anxious to please every one, and yet without a trace of coquetry. She possessed intellect and wit, but she never used them to slander others. A poor eccentric creature!"