"Oh, we have better memories in Berlin than you seem to give us credit for, Count Golm," cried Carla, "especially for gentlemen who make themselves so scarce. Why did we not see you last winter?"
"I was in Italy, Fräulein von Wallbach, and in Paris."
"Oh, that dear dear Paris! We have not been there for an eternity; the last time was the year before the war. They say it has not altered at all, but I cannot believe it. Then there was such a brilliant court--and now--c'est désolant! But sit down by us; there is room if we sit closer together." Carla drew aside her voluminous skirts.
"I am afraid of being in your way," said the Count, but sat down in the place so readily made for him, while Herr von Wallbach glanced despairingly at his varnished boots.
"We have been talking immensely about you this last few days," said Carla. "Dear Elsa! she is so enchanted with Golmberg, it must really be a perfect paradise. Is not Elsa enchanting? We all spoil her here, Ottomar says, and he spoils her more than any one."
"Who is Ottomar, if I may ask?"
"Herr von Werben!" said Wallbach, casting a glance of displeasure upon Carla, "the Lieutenant."
"Oh, his name is Ottomar!" said the Count.
"Our families are so very intimate," said Herr von Wallbach. "My poor brother, you know, fell at the siege of Paris by Von Werben's side."
"True! true! I remember," said the Count, who knew nothing about it.