“I see you are becoming quite sarcastic and bitter,” said her ladyship, shrugging her shoulders. “You have profited somewhat by your interview with Schiller.”
Marie drew back with a quick, convulsive movement, and a sigh escaped her lips. “You should not have mentioned the name of this noble man at such a time, at a time when I am again compelled to deceive him.”
“Enough of this sentimentalism, Marie,” rejoined her mother. “Monsieur Schiller is a very pleasant and agreeable man; he may be a great poet besides, but a suitable husband for you, he is not! He can scarcely earn enough for his own support, and his clothing is not respectable. How did he look when he came here yesterday? You will admit that it is impossible to bring him into the society of rich cavaliers and elegant officers, in his disorderly costume.”
“He looked just as he did when we first met him at Madame Albrecht’s, and yet you then begged him to visit us. And you it was who afterwards encouraged his visits.”
“Nor do I regret having done so,” remarked Madame von Arnim, quietly. “Councillor Schiller is a man of high respectability and eminence. Our intimacy with him is of great advantage to us. It proves to the world that we are wise and intellectual ourselves, for otherwise, so intellectual a man would not have selected us as associates. Believe me, this intimacy has greatly advanced our social position; it has called great attention to us, and placed your youth and beauty in the proper light. Gentlemen of the highest standing and greatest wealth now consider it a great honor to be permitted to visit at our house, since they know that Frederick Schiller adores you, each one of them is anxious to achieve the renown of supplanting the celebrated poet in your favor and making you his wife. You have a great many suitors, Marie, and you owe them, in a great measure, to your intimacy with Schiller.”
“But that is wrong, that is criminal!” cried Marie, bursting into tears.
“Why so?” rejoined Madame von Arnim, laughing. “He was the alluring bait we used to catch our gold-fishes with; I can see nothing criminal in that. Why was this wise man foolish enough to fall in love with you, as he must have known that a union between you and him is impossible?”
“Why impossible?” asked Marie, quickly; she dried her eyes, and looked defiantly into her mother’s complacent, smiling countenance.
“Why impossible? Because you are of too good, too noble a family to ally yourself with a man who is not a nobleman, who has no preëminent rank.”