"I have to thank you, Princess ..."
"For goodness' sake, do not call me that any longer. Say Alexandra, will you not?"
"Will you say Hildegard?"
"Cela va sans dire--Hildegard--a beautiful name--beautiful like her whose it is! What were we talking about? The future, yes, to be sure. Well, there is a glorious future in store for you in your lovely daughter."
"Do you like Erna?"
"Like her? Mon Dieu! only a mother's modesty can ask this. She is simply divine. Not that I never saw more beautiful girls--you see I am quite frank--but there is something in her whole bearing, the way in which she walks or stands, every movement, every gesture, her expression, her smile, her gravity even, there is a grace and a charm about it all which completely bewitch me, woman though I am. How may men feel? Poor men! Poor broken hearts, I pity you!"
"She has scarcely had the chance yet of breaking hearts," replied Hildegard with a smile; "she has only just left school."
"But even very young ladies, I am told, manage sometimes to do it," said the Princess. "I am afraid I broke one or two myself whilst I was at a boarding-school, and it was a strict one, too! But to be serious, have you already chosen for your fair child?"
"Our girls in Germany are wont to claim the right of choice for themselves," replied Hildegard, casting a stolen glance at Bertram, who, walking up and down the saloon with Otto, happened just at that moment to be inconveniently near.
"A bad German peculiarity," said the Princess. "If a girl who does not know the world, does not know men--except her father, of whom she is afraid, and her brothers, whom she thinks ridiculous--is allowed to choose a husband according to the confused illusions of her silly little head--you may bet a hundred to one that the result will be either a bêtise or a malheur--which, according to the saying of the witty Frenchman, are, however, identical terms."