The mother and daughter were alone. There was a silence.
"Mamma," said Countess Clara at last, "I do not feel well, and I would rather stay at home."
Her mother gave her a sympathising look.
"My child," she said, "remember, I pray, what will be said if you do not appear to-night, especially as you have already been seen."
The young lady supported her head with her hand; a sob echoed through the silence of the room, and her slender figure trembled, tears fell on the rose in her bosom.
A servant threw open the door, exclaiming, "Baron von Stielow."
Countess Frankenstein looked amazed, her daughter rose quickly; a deep blush glowed on her face, she sank back in her chair, and her eyes still swimming in tears were fixed on the door. The footman took the silence of the countess for consent, as it was her custom to receive at that hour, and disappeared.
Lieutenant von Stielow entered.
He was as cheerful as ever; no trace of the emotions of the morning appeared on his face, only his former expression of good-humoured carelessness had gone; a grave, an almost solemn earnestness was seen in his whole bearing, his eyes shone with a calm brilliance. His unusual earnestness made him look more handsome than before.
He walked towards the ladies. Countess Clara cast down her eyes and played with her handkerchief. Her mother received the young officer with perfect calmness.