“But it’s best to know about these things beforehand,” she went on. “That’s why I told you about Ursula and Gerard. Afterwards they come as an unpleasant surprise, while, before marriage, one simply laughs at them. Helena ought to have thanked Ursula for frankly confessing to a passing flirtation with Gerard. Instead of that, she goes and breaks off her engagement. Inane! We can’t all marry first affections, as your poor mother thinks she did. But Helena van Trossart was always a poor, weak, fanciful creature.”
“It is not that,” thought Otto. “Women never object to a prior flirtation.” He looked up again, dumbly, to see whether his aunt would continue to use her gimlet.
“However, there’s no help for it now,” cried the Freule Louisa, changing her tone. “The marriage would have been the best thing for all parties, and that’s why it’s not to take place. So don’t let’s talk of it. But the money must be found at once. So let’s talk of that.”
“It can’t be found,” muttered Otto, wishing his aunt wouldn’t interfere, and very angry with her for eavesdropping.
“‘Can’t’ is a man’s word,” replied the Freule van Borck. “Your poor father used to say it whenever he didn’t want to do anything. You say it when you want to do anything very much. The symptoms are different, but the disease is the same—masculine incapacity. A woman says, ‘I will.’”
“Then I wish some woman would say it,” retorted Otto.
His aunt smiled. “You are so literal,” she said. “You never can enjoy the plastic beauty of a theory. And, Otto, in one thing I entirely disagree with you. Gerard’s action was a great one. However unfortunate for us, it deserves our abstract admiration. Yes, I know what you are going to say; but you are wrong. Few natures in our little world are capable of such splendid recklessness. I, for one, applaud it—from a distance. Imagine, in this nineteenth century, a man who will sacrifice his all for a friend!”
“He hasn’t ruined you, Aunt Louisa,” said Otto.
“I am not worth ruining,” she answered, quickly, meekly. “But, Otto, I was coming to that. I am poor, as you know—very poor.” She grew suddenly nervous and sat down, trembling, in a big leathern chair. “But I have this advantage over you rich people, that my money is where I can get at it, in the funds. I’m not going to give it to Gerard,” she said, racing off sharp and fast. Her cheeks grew pink. She was exceedingly frightened, as many women are whenever they allude to finance. “I couldn’t do that and starve, now could I? But I’ll lend it to you on the property, Otto, to pay him off. You’ll fasten it on the property and give me a pawn-ticket, won’t you? And I’ll let you have it on easy terms, because I admire Gerard’s action and—and yours also. I’m proud of my nephews.” She paused, out of breath, and aimlessly stroked her dress.