“I dislike answering questions,” said Hamilton absently, and once more looking towards the door. “Now, there you are again with your eyes fixed on that tiresome——” He turned around, took a well-stuffed sofa-cushion, and, placing it before him, leaned his elbows upon it, while he quietly but steadily fixed his eyes on her face, and said: “Now, madame, if it must be so, I am ready to be questioned.” “You really are the most disagreeable person I ever met.” “That is an observation, and not a question.” “You are the vainest——” Hamilton looked down, and seemed determined not to interrupt her again. “Are you offended at my candour,” she added, abruptly. “Not in the least.” “Put away that cushion, and don’t look as if you were getting tired.” “But I thought you were going to question me?” “No, I am afraid.” “Well, then I must question you,” said Hamilton, laughing. “Why may I not look at Mademoiselle Rosenberg, and why may I not look at the door, if it amuse me?” “You may not look at the door, because in so doing you turn your back to me, which is not civil,” she replied readily. “Very well answered; but now tell me why I may not look at Mademoiselle Rosenberg?” “Oh, you may look at her, certainly; but—but—but—the expression of your face was not as if you disliked her.” “And why should I dislike her?” “I don’t know, indeed—only Crescenz told me that you often quarrelled with her; and as Hildegarde knows no medium, she most probably hates you with all her soul. You have no idea of the intensity of her likings and dislikings!” “Indeed?” “At school she took a fancy to one of the governesses, the most severe, disagreeable person imaginable; can you believe it? This Mademoiselle Hortense was able to do whatever she pleased with her; her slightest word was a command to Hildegarde. I have seen her, when in the greatest passion, grow pale and become perfectly quiet when Mademoiselle Hortense suddenly came into the room. It was, however, not from fear, for Hildegarde has no idea of fearing anybody; she is terribly courageous!” “Altogether rather an interesting character,” observed Hamilton. “Do you think so? I cannot agree with you. At school we all liked Crescenz much better.” “Very possibly—I can imagine your liking the one and admiring the other.” “As to the admiration,” said Madame Berger, looking down—“as to the admiration of the girls at school, that was very much divided: Hildegarde headed one party and I the other.” “You were rivals, then?” “We were, in everything—even in the affection of her sister. It was through Crescenz alone that I was able to tease her when I chose to do so.” “But you did not often choose it, I am sure.”