"Oh, yes;" and Elsa looks down at the large diamond which sparkles like a dewdrop or a tear near her wedding-ring.
"Well, you were ashamed, then, not to have thought of me," he continued, "and then--then you repeated to me, half crying, half laughing, very tenderly a little childish wish: 'Had I an empire I would lay it at thy feet, alas, I can offer you nothing but a kiss,' do you not remember, Elsa?"
But Elsa only replies coldly, almost mockingly: "It is very long ago--hm! What does Linda write to you besides that to-day is the 27th?"
"I have not read all of her letter, read it yourself if you wish," and with that he hands his wife the letter.
Elsa at first struggles with herself, but then she reads it, and half aloud:
Dear Erwin:--It is really too charming in you to so kindly gratify my thoughtless wish. Many, many thanks for the beautiful White Duchess.
Felix just tells me that to-day is the 27th, a day on which you will have no pleasure in playing lawn-tennis with me. You might perhaps force yourself to come so as not to vex me, solitary as I am now. Therefore I release you from your promise. Kiss Elsa for me, and, with most cordial greetings, Sincerely yours, Linda Lanzberg.
"How well she writes," says Elsa, who is sorry that she can find nothing to complain of in the letter, and with the firm resolve not to let her jealousy be perceived in the slightest, she continues: "I should be sorry if our foolish lovers' traditions should prevent you from amusing yourself a little, my poor Erwin." She had taken up some fancy work and seemed to ponder over a difficulty in it. "Pray go over to Traunberg and invite Linda to dinner Sunday."
Erwin gazes angrily before him. "You send me away, Elsa--you--to-day--on our wedding-day?" says he then, slowly.
She laughs lightly and threads a fresh needle. "Ah! do not be childish, Erwin," cries she. "It is not suited to our age now."