"What are you two painting there?" asked Herman, who was turning the pages of an illustrated paper. "Clouds," replied Valérie, "nothing but clouds. I have persuaded Sofie to make studies of clouds with me. Presently, if you're not too lazy, you must come and look at my album." She gave a little laugh. "It contains nothing but clouds!" "By Jove!" drawled Herman. "How very odd!..." "Yes," said Sofie, dreamily, "clouds are very nice, but you never know how to catch them: they change every instant." "Erik," said Herman, "just ask Aunt Valérie to lend me her album." "No, no," cried Wanda, "go and fetch it yourself, lazybones!..." But Erik wanted to go; and there came a great struggle. Wanda hugged the little fellow tight in her arms; Karl joined in: there was a general romp and Wanda, laughing, fell sideways to the ground. "But, Wanda!" said Sofie, reprovingly. Valérie stood up and went to Herman: "With all this, you're not seeing my clouds, you lazy boy. I suppose I must take pity on you. Look...." Herman now suddenly drew himself up and took the album: "How funny!" he said. "Yellow and white and violet and pink. All sunsets!" "And sunrises. I dare say I see more of them than you do!" "The things you see in clouds, Valérie! It's astonishing. How one person differs from another! I should never take it into my head to go and sketch clouds. You ought to come for a cruise with me one day; then you could make whole collections of clouds." "Why didn't you propose that earlier?" said Valérie, jestingly. "Then I might have joined you and Xara." "But where is Othomar?" said Herman. Valérie said that she did not know.... Herman sipped his sherry-cobbler. Wanda wanted a taste, but Herman refused and told her to ring for a glass for herself. Wanda insisted; he seized her by the wrists. "But Wanda!" Sofie repeated, reprovingly, languidly, drawing her hand over her forehead and laying down her brush. Wanda laughed gaily: "But Wanda!" she mimicked. And they all laughed at Sofie, including Sofie herself: "Did I speak like that?" she asked, with her languid voice. "I don't know: I get so sleepy here, so lazy...." They were all making fun of Sofie, when voices sounded from the hall, shrill, old voices. It was the two dowagers, with Othomar; the old ladies were talking in a courtly, mincing way to the young prince, who brought them chairs. The aunts had had a siesta after lunch; they now made their reappearance, with tapestrywork in large reticules. All greeted them with great respect, beneath which lurked a spark of mischief. "_Pardon, lieber Herzog_," murmured old Princess Elsa, the older of the two, "I would rather have that little chair...."