The cousins—known as 'the Belles of Frankenburg'—were alike in stature and delicacy, but very dissimilar in style of beauty and in complexion. Herminia was dazzlingly fair, of a pure Saxon type, with hair of that lovely brown tint which seems shot with gold in the sunshine, and soft eyes of violet-blue, that seemed almost black at night, and though brown her tresses, and wondrously fair her skin, her eyelashes and eyebrows were dark, almost black; but her pretty little nose bordered rather on the retroussé.
Ernestine was a dark beauty, with black hair and clear, but thoughtful and dreamy hazel eyes, which she inherited with the blood of some Hungarian ancestor; her whole style was more classic than that of her cousin. Her nose was slightly aquiline, with dark straight eyebrows that nearly met over it, imparting a great degree of character to her face, which was suggestive of decision of mind and firmness of purpose—a little self-willed and opinionated, perhaps; for Ernestine was not without her faults. She was fond of admiration; but what pretty girl is not? She liked dress and gaiety, and would dance all night if her partners pleased her.
The Countess carefully folded her son's letter, and fixing her keen grey eyes on Herminia, said, somewhat sententiously:
'Though an old man now, the father of my Heinrich was as brave a soldier as ever trod the soil of Germany, and his name is yet venerated among the Uhlans of the Archduke; and I am proud to say, Herminia, that his son is worthy of such a father.'
'Were my cousin the Archduke himself,' said Herminia, wearily, for she was pretty well used to hear these encomiums, 'he would be totally indifferent to me.'
'Herminia!'
'Totally, I repeat. Pardon me, dear Aunt Adelaide; but he has no particular claim on my regard.'
'He is your cousin, your own blood relation—near almost as a brother!' said the Countess, impatiently.
'But still, mamma, as I have said a hundred times before, he can have no claim upon her hand,' urged Ernestine, who had not yet spoken on the subject.
'Do you, Grafine, wish to abet Herminia in her strange contumacy?' asked the Countess, severely.