Frau von Sigmundskron was somewhat surprised when she saw Greif enter the room without Hilda. Greif went up to her with the determination of a man who means to lose no time in getting through an unpleasant business.
‘Aunt Therese,’ he said—he called his father’s cousin ‘aunt,’ after the German manner—‘I told Hilda that I wanted to speak with you alone—do you mind?’
‘On the contrary,’ answered the baroness. ‘Sit down. I will work while you talk. It will help me to understand you.’
‘The matter is very simple,’ said Greif, seating himself. ‘I want to ask whether you are still of the same opinion in regard to my marriage with Hilda, as before I was taken ill.’
‘Of course I am—’ She looked up, in some surprise.
‘Because I am not,’ said Greif, delighted with himself at having found a way to make his aunt state her case first.
‘Not of my opinion, or not of your own former opinion?’ she inquired, rather puzzled.
‘I mean to say that I now once more ask for Hilda’s hand—’
Frau von Sigmundskron laughed, and laid down her work, to look at his face. She had not expected that he would express himself in such a way. Then all at once she saw that he had meant to act in the most loyal manner possible, and she grew grave, being pleased with him as she almost always was.
‘Do you think you need my consent again, Greif? You have it, with all my heart. You need hardly have asked it, for you knew the answer too well.’