"Oh, let that miserable work alone!" said Henriette, impatiently. "Do you suppose I can sit here and watch you calmly stick in your needle and draw out that tiresome thread?" She arose and put her hand within her sister's arm. "Let us go into the music-room. Margaret Giese will shatter the instrument and our nerves at the same time if we do not put an end to this torment."
They went into the adjoining drawing-room, but the lady at the piano, lost in her own harmonies, remained undisturbed. The folding-doors leading into Flora's study were, as was usual when the reception was small, wide open, allowing a full view of the interior. Its subdued light made it seem almost gloomy in contrast with the other brilliantly lighted apartments, and the dark crimson of its hangings deepened to black in remote corners.
Flora was standing by the writing-table, her hands nervously clasped before her, while the councillor leaned back comfortably in an arm-chair, and Doctor Bruck stood looking through a new pamphlet. He was unusually pale; the light falling from the lamp above him brought out two dark wrinkles in his forehead and a deep shadow beneath his eyes, but his expressive head, nevertheless, looked very young in comparison with that of his future bride.
Henriette entered composedly; the lovers were not alone; but Kitty, whom she drew with her, paused upon the threshold, repelled by Flora's air, which was impatient, almost angry. She was evidently in an ill humour. She surveyed with a sarcastic glance her sister's dress, for Kitty had laid aside this evening, for the first time, her deep mourning, and wore light gray.
"Come in, Kitty," she exclaimed, without changing her attitude. "In stiff silk, I see, as usual, just like a paper angel, and enough to make the strongest of us nervous with the perpetual rustle. Tell me, for heaven's sake, why you always wear these frightfully heavy silks? Scarcely the thing, I should say, for your cooking cares in Dresden."
"Oh, 'tis a weakness of mine, Flora," Kitty answered, with a smile. "Childish enough, no doubt; but I like to hear an attendant rustle of silk,—it sounds majestic. In the midst of my 'cooking cares' I do not wear it, of course."
"Why, how proudly she admits the 'cooking cares'! You foolish child! I should like to see you in a linen apron among your pots and pans! Well, every one to his liking; I beg to be excused." Her large gray eyes slowly turned towards the doctor, who was just quietly closing his book.
Kitty felt Henriette's little hand clench as it lay within her arm. "Nonsense, Flora!" she said, in apparent amusement. "Five months ago you often paid a visit yourself to Christel's kitchen. Whether you were of any use there I cannot say; but the good intention, as well as your pretty muslin apron, became you admirably."
Flora bit her lip. "You make a good story of it, Henriette; you never were able to understand that jest or to take it for what it was,—a mere whim." She folded her arms, and, drooping her head as in thought, slowly walked towards the window. She looked very beautiful in her white cashmere dress, with its soft, sweeping train.
The councillor sprang from his arm-chair. "Come, Floss, will you not go into the drawing-room with me now?" he asked. "It is very empty, for a good reason,—the prince holds a diplomatic audience to-night," he added, by way of silencing his own discontent; "but we must do something to put a little life into it, or we shall have grandmamma out of sorts for a day or two."