'A man of forty or more, getting bald already,' said Ernestine mockingly; 'a stout man in a blue coat and brass buttons, with a red ribbon, of course, at his lapelle; a man who, for twenty years, has never made up his august mind to marry, comes now to make a matrimonial victim of me. Thanks—no. I am the Grafine Ernestine of Frankenburg, and such I shall remain.'
'Do you prefer anyone else?' asked the Countess, her eyes glittering with sudden suspicion.
'No—none,' she falteringly said, with her cheeks aflame.
'Is there not one?'
'What do you mean, mamma?'
'I mean this,' said the Countess, with grim asperity, hiding her suspicions, if she had any, 'my dear child, the regiment of Heinrich is under orders for foreign service! his leave is conditional, and may be cancelled by telegraph at any moment; so that if we wish his presence at the marriage, the ceremony must be performed without much delay.'
'It shall never take place with me,' replied Ernestine resolutely.
'To your room, Grafine,' said the Countess with hauteur; so her daughter gladly withdrew, leaving her to make excuses for her absence as she pleased, so the usual female ailment of a headache came at once into play.