"Your last comfortable evening," Goswyn von Sydow repeated, thoughtfully.
"Now you disapprove of me again," the old Countess complained, ironically.
"Disapprove!" he repeated, with an ineffective attempt to laugh at the word. "Really, Countess, if I did not know how kind-hearted you are, I should be sorry for your grand-daughter."
Ho cleared his throat several times as he spoke; he always became a little hoarse when speaking directly from his heart.
"Kind-hearted,--kind-hearted," the old lady murmured, provoked; "pray don't put me off with compliments. What sort of word is 'kind-hearted'? One has weak nerves just as one has an aching tooth, and one does all that one can to spare them; all the little woes one perceives one relieves, if possible,--of course it is very disagreeable not to relieve them,--but the intense misery with which the world is filled one simply forgets, and is none the worse for so doing. You know it is not my fashion to deceive myself as to the beauty of my own character. You are sorry for my grand-daughter."
He would have assured her that he spoke conditionally, but she would not allow him to do so. "Yes, you are sorry for my grand-daughter," she said, decidedly, "but are you not at all sorry for me?"
"Upon that point you must allow me to express myself when I have made acquaintance with the young Countess."
"That has very little to do with it," rejoined the old lady. "Let us take it for granted that she is charming. Doctor Herbegg says she is a jewel of the purest water, lacking nothing but a little polish; between ourselves, I do not altogether believe him. He exaggerated my grand-daughter's attractions a little to make it easy for me to receive her. He is a good man, but, like two-thirds of the men who are worth anything,"--with a significant side-glance at Sydow,--"a little of a prig. But let us take for granted that my grand-daughter is the phœnix he describes, it is none the less true that on her account I must, in my old age, alter my comfortable mode of life, and subject myself to the thousand petty annoyances which the presence of a young girl in my house is sure to bring with it. Do you know how I felt when my indispensable old donkey"--the Countess Lenzdorff was wont frequently to designate thus her old footman Lüdecke--"carried out my Böcklin?" She fixed her eyes sadly upon the bare place on the wall. "I felt as if he were dragging out with it all the comforts of my daily life! Ah, here is the tea."
"It has been here for some time," Sydow said, smiling. "I was just about to call your attention to the kettle, which is boiling over."
She made the tea with extreme precision. It was delightful to see the beautiful old lady presiding over the old-fashioned silver tray with its contents. She wore on this evening a white tulle cap tied beneath the chin, and over it an exquisite little black lace scarf. A refined Epicurean nature revealed itself in her every movement,--in the delicate grace with which she handled the transparent teacups and measured the tea from its dainty caddy,--in the gusto with which she inhaled the aroma of this very choice brand of tea.