"My dear count, I did not know you were here, or I should not have yielded to the heavy slumber which always overpowers me now. I must beg you to excuse me, but I have no doubt Cornelia has entertained you so well that you have not missed me. Besides, age no longer harmonizes with youth. It is too dull for the sympathy and susceptibility required to enter into the rapidly changing details of a conversation."
"Oh, do not say that!" pleaded Henri. "With your fresh intellect one can accommodate one's self to every form of change; but it would be uncourteous to Fräulein Cornelia, if I did not say that I am indebted to her for a most delightful hour." He smilingly took her hand and pressed it warmly.
Veronica looked earnestly at them both, and Henri noticed it.
"Are you satisfied with my influence over your Cornelia? Is she not once more as blooming as a rose?"
"Oh, I am very grateful to you for your friendship, my dear count! But, Cornelia, you are not only blooming, you are fairly glowing to-day. You must have been talking very earnestly."
Cornelia's blushes grew still deeper at this remark. She glanced at Henri; he was apparently gazing irresolutely into vacancy.
"What is the matter, my child? Does your head ache? You really make me uneasy."
Cornelia started up and threw herself at Veronica's feet. "No, I cannot bear it; I could keep silent, but I cannot lie. Veronica, forgive my past reserve,--it was painful enough to me but now you question me, I will tell you the truth. Veronica, must I speak plainly? Yes, yes, it is as you think."
Henri was in a state of painful embarrassment, and thought to himself, "Who can teach a woman to be silent?"
Veronica sat speechless and clasped her trembling hands. After a pause Henri approached and touched Cornelia's head. "Here is all the happiness that earth contains. You will not refuse it to me, my motherly friend?"