CHAPTER XXXV.
[A SPRAINED ANKLE.]
"My dear Rohritz,--
"Accidents will occur in the best-regulated families! As I was escorting my cousin in a ride yesterday, my horse slipped and fell on the ice, and I sprained my ankle. Was there ever anything so stupid! If it could be called a misfortune for which one could be pitied; but no, 'tis a mere tiresome annoyance. Ridiculous! And I am engaged to dance the cotillon at the Fanes' with Stella Meineck. Old fellow as I am, I had really looked forward to this pleasure. Eh bien! all the massage in the world will not enable me to put my foot on the ground before the end of a week. Have the kindness, as they say in your native Vienna, to dance the cotillon in my stead with our fair star. Send me a line to say that you agree, or come and tell me so yourself.
"Is Thérèse going to the ball? Tell her from me to be nice to Stella, and not to reckon it against her that, in spite of a moment of indecision induced by the distinguished eloquence of my very clever little sister, she has behaved nobly and honestly throughout,--in short, just as was to be expected of her. Adieu! Yours forever,
"Capito."
Such is the letter Edgar receives the second morning after the Lipinskis' soirée, while he is breakfasting with his brother in the latter's smoking-room.
"Zino?" asks Edmund, looking up from his 'Figaro,' the reading of which is as much a part of his breakfast as are the fragrant black coffee and the yellowish Viennese bread with Norman butter.
"Read it," Edgar replies, as he scribbles with a lead-pencil on a visiting-card, "I am quite at your disposal," and hands it to the waiting servant.
"He's a fool!" the elder Rohritz remarks, handing back the note to his brother. "He knows perfectly well that you do not dance."