"But, Amalie!" exclaimed Helene.
"I will do as you desire, madame," replied Elizabeth, quietly. She had noticed that while the baroness was speaking a lightning flash of rage shot from Herr von Walde's eyes, a thunder-cloud seemed to pass over his countenance, but in a moment these witnesses to his agitation gave place to a look of withering sarcasm.
"If I might offer a little advice, Fräulein," he said, turning to Elizabeth,—"I should counsel you not to venture rashly into the baroness' apartments,—they are uncanny. Evil spirits are seen there in broad daylight, and they have often worked mischief. Do not give yourself the slightest trouble in the matter,—my steward shall attend to it; he is thoroughly trustworthy, and manages such affairs with so much delicacy that he would really shame even a lady."
The baroness hastily folded her work together and arose.
"It would be better for me to pass the rest of the day in my solitary room," and she turned to Helene, and her lips quivered; "there are times when our most harmless words and actions are misunderstood and resented. I pray you, therefore, to excuse me from appearing at tea."
She made a ceremonious courtesy to the brother and sister, took the arm of her son, who looked much confused, and rustled out of the room.
Helene arose with tears in her eyes, and was about to follow her, but her brother took her hand with kindly gravity, and drew her down again upon the Sofia beside him.
"Will you not give me the pleasure of your company while I drink my coffee?" he said gently, and as quietly as if nothing had occurred.
"Oh, yes, if you wish it," she replied hesitatingly and without looking at him; "but I am sorry to tell you that you must hurry a little, for Fräulein Ferber has come to practise with me, and she has already been kept waiting an unconscionable time."
"Well, let us go to the piano immediately,—but upon one condition, Helene."