"I remember myself, he was in Berlin three years ago. He came from there to Lausanne, to take me away from school, but, I believe, Oscar is not particularly fond of the Capital. You were there quite a long while, were you not?"
"Several years. I studied at Berlin."
"Ah, indeed! Well, I shall make acquaintance with it, too, next winter, at Eric's side. Society must be brilliant there, especially in the height of the season."
"Alas! I can give you no information on that point," said Egbert coolly. "I was in Berlin, to study and to work."
"But that does not consume all of one's time?"
"Oh, yes, noble lady, every bit of one's time."
This answer sounded very positive, almost uncouth: it thoroughly displeased Cecilia, but yet more he displeased her who had given utterance to it, and whom she took this opportunity of observing closely for the first time. This friend of Eric's youth was--coldly considered--anything but attractive in personal appearance. It is true, that his tall, commanding figure made a certain impression, but it was not at all suited to the parlor. Add to this, those homely, irregular features, where everything was stamped with such sharpness and hardness, and the stiff, disobliging manner, that did not soften even now, when one was exerting herself to draw him into conversation. Why, that answer sounded almost as if this Runeck would like to teach a lesson to her, Baroness Wildenrod! She remarked, to her astonishment, that here was nothing of timidity and conscious inferiority, and now, too, she awoke to the fact that it was not admiration which spoke in those cold, gray eyes, but rather enmity. But what would have chilled, and perhaps dismayed, any one else, was just the thing that attracted Cecilia Wildenrod, and so, instead of letting the conversation drop, she took it up again.
She propped her pretty foot against the fender and leaned far back in the arm-chair, her attitude being a negligent, but infinitely graceful one. The late afternoon hour and the dark rain-clouds out of doors had already produced twilight in this part of the parlor, and the fire, sometimes flaring up and again dying down, cast its light upon the slender form that sat there, draped hi a light silk gown, covered with lace, falling upon the roses that she wore on her bosom, and upon the beautiful head that was pillowed upon a rich crimson cushion.
"Dear me! how shall I accommodate myself to this Odensburg?" said she pettishly. "Every third word here is work! They seem, in general, not to have another idea. I, frivolous worldling that I am, feel quite intimidated by it and know I shall inevitably fall into disgrace with my father-in-law-to-be, who is himself a first-class genius of work."
She spoke with an arrogance that challenged reply. It was the tone that had been deemed piquant and fascinating in the sphere of society in which she had been accustomed to move. But it made no impression here: Runeck seemed to be utterly insensible to it.