His uncle watching him narrowly saw the sensitive lips tremble under the soft moustache.
“Come, unveil the mystery, Rudolph,” he said with a quiet smile. “Who is the woman? For, Gad, it looks deucedly like a first prick of love. Nothing else smarts so keenly at your age.”
Rudolph shrank visibly from the coarse frank glance of worldly eyes directed upon a wound so intangible, so especially delicate, and yet open to misconstruction. To grieve about a woman argues the existence of the commoner sentiment, and he loathed the thought of his fine instinct being so misinterpreted. But could a bland and heavy ambassador, who smokes the best cigars and lounges on the softest cushions in irreproachable attire, skilful in gastronomy and a connoisseur in feminine points, be possibly expected to seize and rightly interpret the daintier emotions and pangs of a more exquisite and spiritual organism?
“There is nothing of that matter in my trouble, but I believe I am unfitted for society. I don’t like it; much that others, possibly wiser and better than I, hardly note offends me.”
“You find the charming illusions nurtured in the seclusion of Rapolden Kirchen rudely dispelled,” suggested the baron, looking what he felt, a trifle bored by the lad’s heavy earnestness, but admirably sustained by the comfort of good tobacco. “That happens to every one, though I have no doubt it would afford you immeasurable satisfaction to look upon your case as exceptional. All this is quite correct, since it is so, and if this very interesting and pleasant world realised the fastidious ideal of youth, my dear fellow, it would not be a fit place for any sensible man to live in. Be reasonable, Rudolph. Give poor society another chance before you decide to abandon it to inevitable perdition. There will be plenty of balls presently. Stay and see if you cannot reconcile your flighty imagination to a waltz or two with some pretty Athenians. You may not credit it, but there are two very pretty girls here.”
CHAPTER III. FAREWELL TO YOU!—TO YOU GOOD CHEER!
Given a young man of average resolution in force against an acknowledged and violently self-disapproved inclination, seated in a pleasant morning-room, with clear broad rays of December sunshine, as it knows how to shine in winter in Greece, pouring in through the lattice-work of the windows, every leaf in the garden singing and proclaiming that out-of-doors there is gladness of sight as well as gladness of sound, to soothe the mind of restless and melancholy youth. It will go hard with that young man to resist the temptation to get up, shake out the draggled plumes of thought, and canter away into the country—or why own an uncle who has a horse or two to be had for the asking? One cannot lock oneself away in a dismal chamber merely as a correction against one’s own irregular impulses. Besides, was not his resolution there to act as constable, and move them on if unruly subjects showed any tendency to loiter on the way? So Rudolph made himself look very spruce in a dark green riding coat he had bought in Vienna, and much more suited to the forest depths of Rapolden Kirchen than the high-road of a modern town, put on a pair of brown gauntlet gloves, also scenting too suspiciously of the forest, with long black boots, and he only wanted a forester’s plumed hat to complete the picture. But he looked exceedingly handsome, and as, abroad, all eccentricities of costume are credited to the English, he was taken as a fair young milord as he cantered briskly along the Partissia Road. Somebody met him and remarked afterwards to the Baron von Hohenfels that “he had had the pleasure of seeing his nephew on horseback got up like Gessler without the hat.”
On the youth rode, quite pleased with his green coat and his fine boots, flicking away an occasional fly from the ear of his bay with a dainty riding whip, and inhaling delightedly the soft odours of the winter landscape. He would have liked to whistle or sing.