"Do not be angry with me," she begged. "Since, on grandpapa's account, I could not ask my people to the castle, I drove with them to Remmingen."
"Your people?" he repeated, sharply. "Do not forget, my dear Johanna, that your people are to be found only among the Dönninghausens. Whoever does not belong to us is nothing to you."
"Otto, I have a sister!" she exclaimed, half angry, half wounded.
"The child of an equestrienne can be nothing to you."
"She is and always must be the child of my father. Moreover, my step-mother is not an equestrienne. She is Carlo Batti's wife."
"As if it were not the same thing! Do you suppose our acquaintances would have regard for any such distinctions if they were to see you with that woman? But do not let us quarrel about it; your own good sense must tell you that my betrothed—our grandfather's grandchild—cannot possibly maintain any intercourse with those people."
Johanna was silent. This was not a favourable moment for any mention of her wishes with respect to Lisbeth; but the longer she thought of to-day's meeting, the more necessary did it appear to her that the child should be removed from the evil influences of those about her, not only for a while, but permanently. How this was to be done she could not tell,—it could be possible only at Tannhagen.
Two days later Magelone returned to Dönninghausen. She was fresh and gay, had made some 'most delightful' acquaintances, had danced a great deal, and generally enjoyed herself 'hugely.' Otto teased her about her repeated use of this adverb, ascribing her love for it to the 'huge dimensions' of a certain captain, who had, according to Magelone, been one of her most ardent admirers.
Merry as his teasing sounded, Magelone thought she detected in it a certain jealous annoyance, which pleased her, and she did her best to induce Otto to continue it, by continual descriptions of her social delights,—a topic in which Otto, who was familiar with the society in which his sisters lived, was as much interested as herself. Moreover, he had a taste for aristocratic gossip in general, and for Magelone's graceful treatment of it in particular. How rude Johanna's conversation and air seemed by comparison! and what good did it do for him to try not to compare? The contrast forced itself upon him all the more since Johanna, at present anxious about her sister, and troubled, perhaps, by the sense of a slight estrangement between Otto and herself, was graver than her wont, while Magelone fairly sparkled with merriment.
And she seemed to him more beautiful than ever. The gleaming eyes, the fresh pouting lips, the lithe grace of her figure, attracted him more than ever. The consciousness that he must not yield to the attraction increased its force, and Magelone saw this, and it pleased her to torment him.