The Initials. Baroness Jemima Montgomery Tautphoeus
but even if I had, I should only have admired her forgetfulness of self in her anxiety about her sister.”
“You are right, Zedwitz,” cried Hamilton, with unusual warmth; “quite right. And though I will not, cannot, say that I think the nightcap pretty, I must acknowledge that I admired Hildegarde to-night more than anyone I ever saw. She is superlatively handsome, and it is the greater pity that she is such a devil.”
“A devil! Are you raving?”
“Not a bit of it. I advise you to take care how you make advances to her; she will slap you on the mouth for the slightest misdemeanour.”
“Slap me on the mouth!”
“Not the smallest doubt of it. She buffeted poor Major Stultz when he innocently made her a proposal of marriage, until his face, from deep red, turned to the richest purple.”
“Nay, now I know you are inventing—joking.”
“Not so much as you think, I assure you. Her sister is my authority. She softened the recital in some degree, it is true, by saying that Hildegarde was not often in a passion, and never with her.”
Zedwitz seated himself at the table, drummed on it with his fingers, and looked at Hamilton as if he expected to hear more.
“Perhaps, after all,” said Hamilton, “she is only a little hot-tempered. I have heard it asserted that passionate people were always good-hearted—in fact, most amiable, when not actually in a passion!”
“Who would have imagined that?” said Zedwitz, thoughtfully; “and with such an angel’s face!”
“Never trust an angel’s face!” cried Hamilton, laughing. “My brother John, who understands such things, says that angelic-looking women are very often devils, and, if not, they are bores; and of the two I prefer a devil to a bore, any day—even for a wife.”
Zedwitz rubbed his hand across his forehead, and looked dissatisfied.
“So you think her ill-tempered?” he observed.
“I cannot exactly say ill-tempered; but I have already seen her in something very nearly approaching to a passion.”
“You!—where?”
“No matter. But she called me a fool, and stamped with her foot, until I ran away for very fright.”
“I dare say you had provoked her past endurance; and I have now had an opportunity of judging how shy and modest you are. Not that I mean to blame you for supporting Crescenz, as you did to-night, in the cloisters. You saved her, no doubt, from a severe fall, but you took very remarkable good care of her.”
“It was very natural that Crescenz should cling to me when she was frightened,” said Hamilton, seriously; “and equally natural that I should endeavour to protect her.”
“Oh, it was altogether extremely natural; only don’t talk any more nonsense about being shy. You were anything but shy at the foot of the staircase——”
“Were you there, too?”
“Not very distant from you, disguised as a rat.”
“If I had managed to hit you with the rake, all this scene would have been avoided.”
“Perhaps; but do you know that you invited me yourself to come? I did not know where you were until you said, in the most insinuating manner, ‘I am here—give me your hand.’ ”
“So you were the person who scampered up the stairs?”
“Yes, and scampered down at the other side, and found another way into the passage.”
“Well, I hope I shall not remain long in your debt, that’s all.”
“Oh, your anger is over for this time, I hope. Rather let us now swear an eternal friendship. The thing is possible, as we are not rivals.”
“Perhaps we may be, though—I rather took a fancy to Hildegarde to-night. Crescenz is almost too childish.”
“You are not serious, I hope,” cried Zedwitz, with what Hamilton imagined an affectation of alarm.
“I really don’t know whether I am or not. I am only trying to get up a sort of flirtation to make the time pass agreeably while I am studying German; for that purpose, in fact, one sister is as good as the other; indeed, Crescenz suits me, perhaps, better, because the affair will have a respectable termination when she marries Major Stultz.”
“Is she to marry Major Stultz?”
“So Hildegarde has not even told you that?”
“Not a word.”
“Well, let us open the window and smoke a couple of cigars in the moonlight, and you shall hear all about it, and have a full and true account of the boxing-match between Hildegarde and the gallant Major.”
CHAPTER VII.
AN EXCURSION AND RETURN TO THE SECULARISED CLOISTERS.
Madame Rosenberg “wondered” unceasingly, the next morning, why Crescenz was not well enough to appear at breakfast. Zedwitz looked at Hamilton, and Hamilton looked at Zedwitz, and then they both looked at Hildegarde, whose eyes were fixed on the ground, leaving nothing but the long eyelashes, which rested on her cheek, visible. About the corners of her mouth played an expression which it was impossible to define; but it seemed that Zedwitz was able to interpret it to his own advantage, for he seated himself beside her, and began a conversation in the very easiest manner possible. Major Stultz was fully occupied with a monstrous edition of a meerschaum pipe, and Hamilton turned to Madame Rosenberg, who showed every disposition to be friendly and confidential. From sundry winks and witticisms which she exchanged with Major Stultz, Hamilton perceived that she wished to excite his curiosity, and longed to tell him of Crescenz’s engagement. But he pretended stupidity, and carefully avoided all leading questions. Suddenly it occurred to him to propose a party to the Chiem Lake the next day, and he was immediately warmly seconded by Zedwitz. Major Stultz took his pipe from his mouth to say that the weather was so warm they might expect a thunder-storm, which on that lake would be dangerous. Madame Rosenberg, with a few wise nods, observed that, “under existing circumstances,” she thought that Crescenz might be allowed a little amusement, and the party was decided upon. Hamilton took Zedwitz aside, and asked him if he could not persuade his mother and sister to join them; told him, however, at the same time, what had been said about the Z—‘s.
“My dear fellow,” was his answer, “the Z—‘s are just the people who would have joined the party at once; she likes being in all sorts of company, and he amuses himself everywhere; but nothing in the world would induce my mother or sister to go with these people.”
“These people! Why, are they not respectable?”
“Respectable! Oh, perfectly. Come, don’t play innocence, and force me to explain what you understand as well as I do. The two girls are treasures, and would be presentable anywhere, if they had but a ‘Von’ before their name; but their step-mother is vulgarity personified, and Major Stultz, you know, was a common soldier!”
“I know nothing at all about Major Stultz, excepting that he is a red-faced, jolly-looking, elderly man. He must have distinguished himself during the war, or he could not have obtained his present rank.”
“Yes, his personal bravery is undoubted; he was also an excellent officer——covered with wounds—made the campaign in Russia, and was one of the few Bavarians who returned home to relate the horrors of the retreat. I advise you, however, to avoid the subject when he is present, as he is rather diffuse about it. His brother, a Nuremburger tradesman, died about six months ago, and left him a good deal of money; his wounds afforded him a good excuse for retiring from the service and applying for a pension. And he told me honestly, that he