In fact, Countess Elfride d’Elveda approached, and Cristiano, who had taken a seat by Margaret’s side, drew back a little.
The countess was a small woman, fair, fat, lively and resolute. She was scarcely thirty-five years old, and was very coquettish, although less from gallantry than a love of intrigue.
She was one of the most ardent caps in Sweden; that is, she took sides with Russia against France, whose partisans were called hats; and with the nobility and Lutheran clergy against the king, who naturally sought his support in the other orders of the state, the citizens and peasants.
She had been pretty, and, what with her wit and rank, was still sufficiently so to make conquests; but there was something in her manner, by turns haughty and familiar, that displeased Cristiano. Her evident duplicity and obstinacy, which he read at a glance, did not seem to him to promise well for Margaret’s future.
“Well,” she said to the latter, sharply and briefly, “what are you doing here crouched up against this stove, as if you were frozen? Come, I want to speak to you!”
“Yes, aunt,” replied Margaret, pretending, with innocent hypocrisy, to rise with difficulty; “but the fact is that I am suffering very much with my foot. Being unable to dance, I felt cold in the large saloon.”
“Whom were you talking to?” inquired the countess, looking at Cristiano, who had gone up to M. Stangstadius.
“The nephew of your friend M. Goefle, whom Monsieur Stangstadius just presented to me. Shall I introduce him to you, aunt?”
Cristiano, who was not listening to the professor, heard perfectly well what Margaret said. Resolved to risk everything to continue his acquaintance with the niece, he came forward of his own accord, and bowed to the aunt in such a respectful and graceful manner, that she was struck by his fine appearance. She must have been very much in need of M. Goefle, for, in spite of Cristiano’s plebeian name, she received him as courteously as if he had belonged to one of the best families in the country; and when Monsieur Stangstadius declared that he was a young man of great merit, became excessively condescending.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” she said, “and I am angry with M. Goefle for never speaking to me about a nephew who does him honor. Are you a devotee of science, like our distinguished friend Stangstadius? I am glad to hear it. There is no finer career that a young man can choose. No position is more agreeable than that of the scientific man, for he is not obliged to make sacrifices to obtain consideration.”