"Indeed? Well, that alters nothing, though I did not particularly desire your presence. To be sure, I had entirely forgotten you."
"I believe so!" said George, sighing a second time, and even more piteously. "You had forgotten everything. If all Krivoscia had come up and made an end of us I don't think you would have even noticed it. But I at least kept watch and prayed constantly for the salvation of your soul, but it did no good."
"That was very kind of you!" replied Gerald, who was completely possessed by the arrogance of happiness which raised him far above all anxiety or thought of peril. "I certainly had no time for that, since, as you saw, I was pledging my troth."
"Herr Gerald!" In his despair George forgot respect and used the old familiar name. "Herr Gerald--by all the saints--this is awful!"
"To betroth one's self in the presence of mortal danger? It is certainly unusual, but the time and place cannot always be chosen."
This had not been George's meaning. He thought the fact terrible in itself, and with a face better suited to funereal condolence than congratulation he said:
"I've long known it! I said day before yesterday to Father Leonhard: 'Take heed, your reverence, some misfortune will happen! And if it does all Tyrol will be turned topsy-turvy and Castle Steinach to boot----'"
"Let them! then."
"'And the blow will kill his mother,'" George continued, pursuing the current of his mournful prophecies.
"My mother!" said Gerald, who had suddenly grown grave. "Yes, I shall have a hard struggle with her. No matter! The battle must be fought. Not a word more, George!" he cried, interrupting the young soldier, who was about to speak. "You know I submit to many liberties of speech from you where the matter concerns only myself, but there my indulgence ends. From this moment you must respect in Danira Hersovac my future wife: remember it and govern yourself accordingly."