“Quite so. Still, it is possible for a fellow at your age to get disagreeably entangled, and a respectable marriage, you know, is always preferable to that. Amuse yourself, by all means; I would not restrict you in that line. You must be a man of the world, and gallantry is the very finest education. As I said before, in the regular way, there is no objection to Mademoiselle Veritassi, but for all irregular purposes, stick to the married women, my dear boy. Become a favourite with them, and study an attitude of delicate audacity, a kind of playful rouerie.”
All this was Hebrew to Rudolph, but he took care not to press his uncle for an explanation. Instead, he went upstairs, and donned attire less ostentatious and theatrical than the forest coat and long boots. In a faultless suit of navy-blue he was seen an hour later upon the Patissia Road walking towards the Platea Omonia, and a brisk pace brought him to Photini’s door. It was opened by Polyxena, as rough and untidy as ever, who jerked her thumb towards the stairs, and growled:—
“You’ll find her upstairs.”
Rudolph’s heart beat apprehensively as he slowly mounted and knocked outside Photini’s door, which he opened gingerly after a loud “come in.”
“Oh, it is you!” the Natzelhuber exclaimed, more graciously than usual. “I thought it was that fool come for her lesson. Sit down, and let me look at you.”
Rudolph obeyed and smiled enigmatically, as he steadily met her lambent gaze.
“What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you?” she demanded, imperiously.
“Nothing in particular,” said Rudolph.
“Humph! Your face does not show that.”