He came up to her and shook hands, and remained beside her. Luise and Max moved off, she lightly leaning on his arm and whispering in his ear:
‘ Nun, mein Lieber, what do you think? Will you still say there is nothing between them? Did you not see how dismal she was—quite verstimmt, I declare, until Falkenberg came up, when in a moment everything became couleur de rose. As for him, I really begin to think that the unapproachable and fastidious Rudolf has fallen a victim at last.’
‘And what wonder?’ murmured Max, peaceably.
‘Not much, I confess. But say what you like, it is a tremendous match for her.’
‘Why so tremendous?’ inquired Herr Helmuth, who appeared not quite so complaisant as usual this evening. ‘I am sure even Falkenberg never met a more beautiful or charming woman.’
‘Even Falkenberg! I can tell you, Herr Bräutigam, that if it had not been for a certain long-legged, stupid fellow, who has not a word to say for himself, and on whom I took pity because I could not bear to see him look always as if he were on the brink of tears or suicide—if it had not been for this fellow, I say, who put me into this predicament, I would have shown you whether even Falkenberg was impervious to everyone except a stony Englishwoman like Miss Ford.’
Highly delighted, and completely restored to acquiescence and submission, Max laughed again, a mightier laugh than ever, and they repaired to the dancing-room.
Father Somerville had a very long conversation with Frau Goldmark, relating entirely to Miss Ford and Herr Falkenberg. He had won her heart by telling her that at Brentwood there was a small but beautiful picture of her husband’s—a St. Agatha.
‘Ah, die heilige Agathe!’ replied Frau Goldmark, artlessly. ‘Yes, a very handsome housemaid of ours sat for it—an Elsässin, die Lisbeth. It made a beautiful picture.’