Carlo Batti gave a long, low whistle. "A curious taste!" he said; "that for riding on a snail when you might have a race-horse! 'But every elf must please himself.' If you should change your mind you know where to find me. I shall always be ready to repeat my offer."
"How kind you are!" said Johanna. "Thank you again; and do not be angry with me." As she spoke she held out her hand to him.
He shook it kindly. "Angry, no!" he said; "but I will not deny that it vexes me. But let us say no more about it. We have not had our gallop yet."
And away they went along the Herrenhausen Avenue.
Batti's disappointment was, however, too great to be dissipated by the ride. The longer he thought of Johanna's refusal the more it irritated him, and when at his daily breakfast at the hotel he met Dr. Stein, the latter instantly asked what ailed his 'dear friend.'
"I have been vexed; but I do not want to talk about it," Batti shouted, as if to take all present into his confidence.
"Then let us have our breakfast," said the other. "A glass of wine will wash away your ill humour."
"Ill humour! Who told you that I was ill-humoured?" Batti shouted again, as he took his seat. And even before the wine was brought Dr. Stein had learned that Batti's boasted scheme with regard to Johanna had come to nothing.
"Perhaps you did not offer her enough," he said.
"It never came to that," Batti replied. "No, the money question does not touch her; it is her fine relatives that stick in her crop. Although the stuck-up crowd will have nothing to do with her, the only reply she has for me is regard for them. 'Tis enough to drive one mad!"