But Rudolph did not sleep, and a sleepless night, we know, works disastrously upon the nerves and looks. When he appeared downstairs his uncle glanced up casually from his papers, and, stirring his chocolate, said in surprise:
“Why, whatever is the matter with you, Rudolph? This is too absurd. A girl wouldn’t look so battered after a first ball.”
“Well, I am battered, I suppose. I’ve passed a bad night and I am not used to it,” said Rudolph listlessly.
“A bad night! a fellow of your age! Is it possible? Fact is, my dear boy, your mother has ruined you. Nothing worse than to pamper and coddle up lads as if they were girls. Your mother had no business to keep you immured in that ghostly old place with no hardier society than her own.”
“I wish she were there still and I with her,” said poor Rudolph, with a little break in his voice and a faint clouding of his blue eyes.
“Of course, of course,” hastily cried the volatile baron, whom all evidence of emotion struck chill. “The wish does you and her credit. But all the same, it is not exactly fit training for a boy. Makes him whimsical and sensitive and shy—a lively prey for all adventurers male and female, especially female. Fact is, it is most enervating and absurd. You ought to have seen something of society long ago, Rudolph; you ought indeed. Men and manners—you know your classics?”
“That is just my difficulty. Men and manners—to find them disappointing and strange. My brief glimpse of them has both sickened and saddened me.”
“Nonsense! You must face life like a man; not dream it away like a puny sentimental girl. You want backbone and nerve, Rudolph, you do indeed. Men are not saints nor women angels. Well, what of that? They are not expected to be so until they get into the next world, which time, as far as I am concerned, I trust will be postponed to the furthest limits. Then the ladies find their wings and the men get canonised, that is, if they haven’t taken snuff. I believe a very estimable saint was once refused canonisation because he took snuff; can’t swear to it, however. For the rest, my boy, adopt the aphorism of the wise German, who was good enough to discover that everything is arranged for the best in this best of all possible worlds.”
“You can take things lightly, uncle, but I cannot.”
“Of course not,” rejoined the baron, lighting a cigar. “Whoever heard of a young man taking anything lightly except his debts?”