‘Oh, Sara, your Father Somerville is delightful!’ exclaimed Luise. ‘I have quite lost my heart to him. If he were not a priest I should run away with him—do you hear, Max?’
Sara saw nothing in this even to smile at. What was a light jest to Luise Wilhelmi, was deadly pain and misery to her. Max Helmuth laughed a mighty, not very meaning laugh. Was he not in honour bound to laugh at all the jokes or would-be jokes of this sprightly little lady, who, so everyone said, was so much cleverer than himself?
‘Look how amiable he is!’ pursued Luise; ‘even making himself agreeable to the poor Goldmark there.’
Sara turned hastily, and looked across the room to where indeed Somerville was seated beside Frau Goldmark; his pale, handsome face leaning a little towards her, in marked contrast with her flushed excited countenance.
‘Really, Luise, I wonder that Frau Goldmark persists in coming to these large parties under the circumstances!’ she exclaimed involuntarily.
‘It does look rather odd, doesn’t it? But who would grudge her a little amusement? she will soon have to work hard enough.’
‘Certainly; but I think if my husband had been dead not six weeks, and I had cared at all for him, I should not be very anxious for amusement.’
‘I think Fräulein Ford is right,’ said Max, audaciously hazarding an independent remark.
‘Max! He only says that because he has the greatest veneration for you, Sara, and thinks all you say and do is right.’
‘Does he?’ said Sara, with rather a feeble smile, while her eyes wandered restlessly around, as they had done ever since her arrival. ‘Ah!’ she added, a light breaking over her pale face, ‘there is Herr Falkenberg; I wondered where he was.’