"How coarse!"
"There now, see how quickly you have made enemies of all these people," whispered old Heim. "You are not wrong from your point of view,--but where is the use of battering so at the door of a house where you have been received as a guest? If you wish to associate with mankind, you must not go about treading upon their toes."
"I do not wish to associate with these people," said Ernestine.
"Oh, yes, you do! You must wish it. Do you suppose that you need no help, no support,--that you can get along entirely alone in the world? How unpractical! how terribly exaggerated!"
"I do not understand you, Father Heim."
"I don't suppose you do----"
Angelika here interrupted the conversation, saying, as she handed Ernestine a plate of apricot crême, which was greatly lauded, "You must eat some of this, Fräulein Ernestine. I made it myself, and I am very proud of it."
"You have just heard how Fräulein von Hartwich despises the noble art of cookery. Don't pride yourself upon it before her," sneered Moritz.
Angelika compassionated Ernestine's mortification at these words, and, while the other ladies were deep in a discussion regarding the preparation of the delicious crême, she said kindly, "You are quite right in lamenting that we women attach so much importance to such things, but they are part of our daily life, and we cannot entirely ignore them. Why did God give us organs of taste, if we are not to enjoy the flavour of our food? It is so natural to try to make the life of those whom we love pleasant, even by the most trivial means, amongst which are justly ranked eating and drinking."
"Forgive me for asking the question," said Ernestine, "but could not their enjoyment be equally well secured by the hands of a cook while you were employing your time with something better?"