"Is he not a good-natured man in other respects?" timidly suggested Lenore.
"Good-nature is a convenient name for every thing that is morbid," replied Fink. "We call it good-nature in men and sensibility in women." He looked at Lenore. "How has the poor pony sinned, that you will never ride him more?"
Lenore blushed as she replied, "I find that riding gives me headache."
"Indeed!" said Fink, tauntingly; "you once had the advantage of being less delicate. I do not think this lachrymose mood is suitable for you; you will not lose your headache thus."
Lenore, quite subdued, turned to Anton: "Have the newspapers arrived? I came to ask for them for my father."
"The footman has taken them to the baroness's room."
Lenore turned away with a slight inclination, and went back to the castle.
Fink looked after her and said to Anton, "Black does not become her; she is much faded. Hers is one of those faces which only please when they are full and blooming."
Anton cast a dark glance at his friend. "Your behavior toward her has been so strange for the last few weeks, that I have often felt indignant at it. I do not know what your purpose may be, but you treat her with a nonchalance which does not offend her alone."
"But you too, Master Wohlfart, eh?" asked Fink, looking Anton full in the face. "I was not aware that you were this lady's duenna too."