"She might have educated the Prison Fairy;" thought _Heinrich_, and at
last determined to ask her; but Veronica, without allowing herself to
be interrupted, continued, with the loquacity of age: "I know they call
me the Sensitive Plant, because I have preserved my quick feelings and
ready tears; but I do not think they are mocking me, for they know I
play no sentimental comedy, but rejoice with those who rejoice, and
even follow with sincere interest the struggles of the age, although
they do not please me. To me the only true voices are those that speak
from sentiment and in its behalf; therefore I must confess that I
prefer them to the modern spirit of speculation, piquant as it is, and
shall listen to them devoutly until death some day solves for me the
mystery of life." She again glanced at the clock and made _Heinrich_ a
confused apology for having chattered so long.
_Heinrich_ could do nothing but take leave, and was compelled to defer
receiving the ardently desired assurance until the morrow; he bowed as
low and as frequently as possible, and withdrew from the apartment as
slowly as he could. The lock of the door stuck in his hand as if it
were bewitched, and he was so absentminded that he was obliged to pause
some time in the ante-chamber to remember which was the way out; he did
not know where he was or what he was doing. Meantime bitter reflections
upon his hasty dismissal, his own strange embarrassment, which had made
the harmless question falter on his lips more and more the longer he
delayed it, until at last he could no longer utter it; upon the old
lady's loquacity, which had not allowed him to speak: in short, the
striking of a large cuckoo-clock, which also seemed to jeer at him,
first made him aware that he must at last leave the house. With a
despairing glance at the different doors he went away, and on reaching
the carriage could not help laughing at himself. _Heinrich_ scoffed at
_Henri_, and _Henri_ derided _Heinrich_. An impulse of rejoicing over
something, he knew not what, overpowered him.
X.
PROGRESS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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