"Lack of fortune?" Selina exclaims.
"I thought Olga was entirely dependent upon your mother's generosity," Fainacky says, eagerly.
"Not at all. My father saved a very fair sum for Olga from the remains of her mother's property. She has the entire control of a fortune of three or four hundred thousand guilders,--quite enough to make her a desirable match; but the girl seems to have taken it into her head that no one save a prince of the blood is good enough for her!" And the Countess actually stamps her foot.
"Do you really imagine that it is Olga's ambition alone that prevents her from contracting a sensible marriage?" Fainacky drawls, with evident significance.
"What else should it be?" Selina says, imperiously. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing, nothing; she seems to me rather exaggerated,--overstrained. Let us try this duet of Boito's."
"I do not wish to sing any more," she replies, and leaves the room.
He gazes after her, lost in thought for a moment, then snaps his fingers.
"Four hundred thousand guilders--by Jove!"
Whereupon he takes his seat at the piano, and improvises until far into the night upon the familiar air, "In Ostrolenka's meads."