Crescenz did. Hildegarde did not. And in consequence Zedwitz’s visit to Madame Rosenberg was very short, and he soon adjourned to Hamilton’s room. “Why, what’s this?” cried Madame Rosenberg, peeping into the coffee-pot. “I do declare, Mr. Hamilton has forgotten to drink his coffee!” “Let me take it to him,” said Crescenz, advancing towards the table. “You will do no such thing,” said her step-mother, waving her hastily back. “No such thing—and I think—that is, the Major—but it is not necessary to explain. Call Hildegarde.” Hildegarde came and was desired to carry the tray to Hamilton’s room. “May I not send Walburg?” “You may not, because I have sent her on an errand, and the coffee is too cold to be kept waiting until her return, now that the fire is out in the kitchen.” “But—but——” hesitated Hildegarde, “Mr. Hamilton is not alone.” “Count Zedwitz is in his room, but he won’t bite you, so go at once, and don’t be disobliging.” Half an hour afterwards Hamilton was in the corridor, looking for his cane, which the children had mislaid. He turned into the nursery, and while rummaging there, Madame Rosenberg joined him, and hoped he had not found his coffee too cold. “Coffee! no—yes! When, where did I drink it?” “In your own room,” replied Madame Rosenberg, laughing. “Your memory must be very short; I sent it to you by Hildegarde, about half an hour ago.” He looked inquiringly towards Hildegarde. She raised her eyes slowly from her work, and looking at him steadily and gravely, said in French: “I threw it out of the window rather than take it to you.” “Next time I advise you to drink it,” said Hamilton, laughing, as he left the room with Zedwitz. While descending the stairs, he observed: “Well, that is the oddest girl I ever met—perfectly original. You have no idea how she amuses and interests me.” “I can easily imagine it,” said Zedwitz, dryly. “But you can _not_ imagine how intensely she hates me.” “That was what you desired, if I remember rightly; and for your sake I hope you continue as indifferent as formerly.” “Not exactly; I believe I rather feel inclined to like her unpolished sincerity and straightforward vehemence; she really would be charming sometimes, if she were a little less quarrelsome.” “I never found her quarrelsome,” said Zedwitz. “Of course not, when you were enacting the part of adorer. That makes all the difference in the world! But what are you looking at?” asked Hamilton, seeing his companion stop short at the street-door. “I see nothing but a couple of officers lounging about the windows of that brazier’s shop opposite, which cannot contain anything particularly interesting, I should think.”