'I really think not,' said the Countess, to whom this kindly concern on her son's part was evidently distasteful. 'You know that Oswald is not susceptible to the influence of the weather. He must change his clothes, that is all. Go, Oswald; but no, one word more,' she added carelessly, and, as it were, by an afterthought: 'I have this time given you another room, one situated over yonder, in the side-wing.'
'For what reason?' asked Edmund, surprised and annoyed. 'You know that we have always had our rooms together.'
'I have made some alterations in your apartments, my son,' said the Countess, in a tone of much decision; 'and they have obliged me to take possession of Oswald's room. He will have no objection, I am sure. He will find himself very comfortably lodged over yonder in the tower-chamber.'
'No doubt, aunt.'
The reply sounded quiet and indifferent enough, yet there was something in its tone which struck on the Count's ear unpleasantly.
He frowned, and would have spoken again, but glancing at the servants standing round, he suppressed the remark he had been about to make. Instead of pursuing the discussion, he went up to his cousin and grasped his hand.
'Well, we can talk this over later on. Go now, Oswald, and change your clothes at once--at once, do you hear? If you keep those wet things on any longer, you will give me cause for serious self-reproach. Do it to please me; we will wait dinner for you.'
'Edmund, you seem to forget that I am waiting for you.'
'One minute, mother. Everard, light Herr von Ettersberg to his room, and see that he has dry clothes ready without delay.'
So saying, he turned to his mother, and offered his arm to lead her away. Oswald had responded by no single syllable to all the concern on his account so heartily expressed. He stood for a few seconds, looking after the two as they departed; then, as the old servant approached, he took the candelabrum from his hand.