"You are good at reading countenances," answered Eric. And so they parted.
From this time Manna's haughty and even her confident bearing toward Eric was gone; there was a sort of shyness, and she seldom spoke to him. But this want of notice was something very far removed from that haughty indifference with which she had formerly disregarded him; there was defiance, angry resistance in her demeanor, as if she would say, I do not comprehend why you are of any interest to me whatever.
Manna also occasionally visited the castle, going by herself with her two dogs. She had the Architect explain to her the plans of this building as it was being restored, and as it existed formerly.
She took an interest in the work, and entered into consultation with her father in regard to the fitting up of the hall already finished, the so-called Knight's hall.
Sonnenkamp was busily employed in buying the ancient weapons to be hung upon the walls, and the armor to be placed upon the pillars. He could not refrain from saying to Manna beforehand, that he intended to dedicate the castle in the autumn, on her birthday; but she desired that this should be omitted. This continual festivity and banqueting did not suit her; and she was particularly anxious that her birthday should be marked by no external celebration, even of the simplest kind.
Since her return from the convent, if she would honestly confess it to herself,—and Manna ventured to confess all,—she had taken greater pleasure in her dogs than in anything else. She had even written a letter to the Superior, asking whether they would allow her to bring a dog with her into the convent, but had burned the letter afterwards. She represented to herself how laughable it would be for a nun to be going through the garden with a dog at her heels, and how intolerable if every nun had a dog of her own. She smiled to herself for the first time, and then again asked herself the question, Why do we have no animals in the convent? Eric found her as she was sitting down and talking to her dogs.
"Do you not think," she asked, "that a dog, this one, for instance, has an unspeakably sad expression of face?"
"Whoever looks for it can find it. The mystics say that it came from the fall of man; that since then, all creatures have a mournful expression."
Manna thanked him, but this time with a look only, and not with words. "Surprising how the man can enter into every thing! And why is he still a heretic! Why?"
A carriage was advancing toward them, and a white handkerchief was already waving in the distance. "Manna!" was called out; Eric withdrew. Manna rose and went to meet Lina, who got out and let the carriage drive on.