They drove too to Prince Lambert's villa, and while the Countess-bride struggled to keep up a conversation with the dazzling but very uneducated Baroness von Rohrdorf, the old petticoat-hunter congratulated his nephew in his sepulchral voice on the unprejudiced choice he had made, and on so boldly snapping his fingers at Court and Highness. "I am not snapping my fingers at my Highness, uncle; not only have I had an eye to my own happiness in no inconsiderable measure, but I have acted throughout with the Mass, the Whole, in view," said Klaus Heinrich rather rudely; whereupon they broke off, and drove to Schloss "Segenhaus," where Dorothea, the poor Dowager, held her dreary Court. She cried as she kissed the young bride on the forehead, without knowing why she did so. Meanwhile Samuel Spoelmann sat at Delphinenort surrounded with plans and sketches of furniture and silk carpet-patterns, and drawings of gold plate. He left his organ untouched, and forgot the stone in his kidney, and got quite red cheeks from merely having so much to do; for however small the opinion he had formed of "the young man," or the hope he held out of his ever being seen at Court, yet his daughter was going to be married, and he wanted the arrangements to be worthy of his means. The plans had to do with the new Schloss "Hermitage," for Klaus Heinrich's bachelor quarters were to be razed to the ground, and a new Schloss built on its site, roomy and bright and decorated, by Klaus Heinrich's wish, in a mixture of Empire and modern styles, combining cool severity with homely comfort. Mr. Spoelmann appeared one morning in person, after drinking the waters in the spa-garden, in his faded great-coat at the "Hermitage," in order to find out whether this or that piece of furniture could be used for the new Schloss. "Let's see, young Prince, what you've got," he snarled, and Klaus Heinrich showed him everything in his sober room--the thin sofas, the stiff-legged tables, the white-enamelled tables in the corners. "Gimcrack," said Mr. Spoelmann, "no use for anything." Three arm-chairs only in the little yellow room, of heavy mahogany, with snail-shaped convolute arms and the yellow covers embroidered with blue lyres, found favour in his eyes. "We can put those in an ante-room," he said, and Klaus Heinrich was relieved that these arm-chairs should be contributed to the furnishing by the Grimmburg side; for of course it would have been rather painful to him if Mr. Spoelmann had had to find every single thing.