"I shall spend the winter mostly in the town," replied Blanden.
The man with the iron mask, thought she, he denies his flowers, but has he, like many, only warm feelings in his verses?
The suspicion that those lines did not originate from him still appeared incredible to her.
"One who has lived so long in Hindustan, amongst the lotus-flowers, may, indeed, find it very desolate here with us."
She cast a sympathetic glance at Blanden, who was so impolite as to look at his watch at that very moment.
"Lotus-flowers, the cradle of the gods," continued Lori, raising her eyes like her sister Ophelia, for which, however, she had not the long silken lashes; she had no talent for moonlight of the soul.
"Nothing looks so poetical when seen quite closely," said Blanden, "as in the poet's verses, neither lotus flowers, nor gods, nor bayaderes. The lotus flowers are of as beautiful a pink as your bonnet, Fräulein, Nevertheless, the holy plant possesses a very prosaic side, too; bread can be made from its fruit."
Was this meant for a significant or, perhaps, even a malicious allusion? Lori had plenty of time for reflection, because immediately after Blanden politely took leave, while he repeated that he should always be ready to protect her.
A feeling of great uncertainty took possession of her. All that Blanden said was so cool, so distant. Had she been mistaken? Did the castles of Kulmitten and Rositten belong to those in the air? or was he only teasing her? Did the merry cupids take refuge in his flowers and lines of poetry, while he acted the part of grave invincibility?
As Lori left the confectioner's shop, she had to pass readers, who were deeply absorbed in their newspapers. One gigantic sheet was suddenly lowered, and behind it appeared the moustache of Dr. Sperner, who greeted the principal of the boarding school with a slight bow, and smiled familiarly, as she strolled past him.