‘Are you ready, Sara? Yes—of course. How horrid of you! You never keep the company waiting. What a rush it is, this life! Oh, how I long to be alone sometimes!’
‘Complimentary to us and to poor Count Trockenau!’
The countess laughed heartily.
‘My poor Fritz!—of course I spoke exceptionally.’
‘You know you would hate to be alone,’ added Sara. ‘You cannot live out of a rush. I wonder what you would do if you had to lead my life at Elberthal.’
‘Ah, but you have a great soul. Mine is such a very little one. Little in every way. It is so small that it has led me to—what do you think?’
‘I am sure I cannot say. To tell Hans Lemde that I am dying to paint his portrait, I dare say.’
‘No! But oh, what a lovely idea! I will tell him so, and I will say that you said it. Poor Hans! I imagine him sitting to you. Oh, I think I see his face!’
They both laughed in a manner which Baron Lemde would probably think malignant, and Frau von Trockenau went on.
‘No, but I was so annoyed at the way in which Helene and Maria Lehnberg behaved last evening—giving themselves such airs, that I have done something spiteful to them to-day.’