The emotion which this unexpected sight aroused in him was so restrained in its expression that the Privy Councillor’s eyes lost their brief brightness and grew dark again.
“May one enter?” he asked, and crossed the threshold.
He walked to the middle of the room, placed his hat on the table, and looked about him with astonishment held in check. It was better than he had imagined and also worse. It was cleaner, more respectable, more habitable; it was also more lonely and desolate. “So this is where you live,” he said.
“Yes, this is where I live,” Christian repeated, with some embarrassment. “Here and in a room across the court I have lived until now. These were Karen’s rooms.”
“Why do you say until now? Are you planning to move again?”
Since Christian hesitated to answer, the Privy Councillor, not without embarrassment in his turn, went on: “You must forgive me for coming upon you so suddenly. I could not know whether you would consent to such an explanation as has become necessary, and so I made no announcement of my coming. You will understand that this step was not an easy one to take.”
Christian nodded. “Won’t you sit down?” he asked, courteously.
“Not yet, if you don’t mind. There are things that cannot be discussed while one is sitting still. They have not been thought out in that posture either.” The Privy Councillor opened his fur-coat. His attitude was one of superiority and dignity. His silvery, carefully trimmed beard contrasted picturesquely with the silky blackness of his fur.
There was an oppressive pause. “Is mother well?” Christian asked.