“I do not ask that men should be saints nor women angels.”
“It is considerate of you to be so unexacting. Pass the saintship of your own sex, young men have the extremely awkward habit of quarrelling with women as soon as they discover they are not angels.”
“But I do seek for evidences of gentlemanly feeling, for decent manners and chivalrous speech,” Rudolph went on, ignoring the Baron’s interruptions.
“Now you are hardly so unexacting. This strikes me as demanding something more than sanctity, for it is quite possible that a saint may be an ill-mannered cad,” said the baron gravely.
“I hope, sir, that you will not be offended with me if I express a wish to return to Austria,” said Rudolph, after a pause, nervously devoted to industrious crumbling.
“Indeed, Rudolph,” cried the baron, facing him with a disconcerting steadiness of gaze, “I am very seriously offended to hear you express such a wish. Your aunt and I have cherished the hope that you would find your stay with us pleasant enough to make your visit a prolonged one. What has upset you? If there is anything we can do to make you comfortable, I beg you will state your wishes and count them fulfilled.”
“Nothing, nothing indeed, I assure you. You and my dear aunt are kindness itself, and I am most truly grateful. But I am not happy, uncle. Do not blame me if I seem capricious.”
“Seem! Well, and are you not?”
“I cannot help it if I am perplexed and grieved. I think I should feel less troubled in Rapolden Kirchen, that is all,” Rudolph slowly explained, bending his head with apparent anxiety over the little heap of crumbs he was making with his knife.