“I cannot dispute that point,” replied Hildegarde, laughing; “but I wish to do him justice when I can, as I am only by degrees getting over an inveterate dislike which I took to him at first sight, without any reasonable cause.” “So,” exclaimed Raimund, “if that be the case, I am satisfied. It must, however, be extremely disagreeable to have such a Don Magnifico forced into one’s domestic circle. I wonder your father did not rebel; but of course he must do whatever your mother chooses.” “Oh! papa, mamma, and Crescenz liked him from the first,” said Hildegarde. “I was the only person who quarrelled with him, because I imagined that he was laughing at us, or seeking amusement at our expense, while he considered himself far, far above us. On a nearer acquaintance, it is impossible not to think him agreeable, clever, and, I must say, perfectly unaffected.” “My dear, if you continue in this strain,” said Mademoiselle de Hoffmann, laughing slyly, “you will force us to think you altogether in love with him!” “By no means,” observed Raimund; “were that the case, she would be more reserved in her praise. I am rather disposed to think that this Englishman, by some unaccountable perversion of taste, must have given the preference to my other cousin. Come, confess, Hildegarde! As to his living in your house, and not taking a fancy to one or the other, the thing is absolutely and totally impossible.” “I believe,” replied Hildegarde, “he—he rather admired Crescenz until she was engaged to be married to Major Stultz.” “Then he admires her still, you may depend upon it.” “Perhaps he does; it is difficult to know Crescenz, and not both admire and love her,” replied Hildegarde; “but at all events he has ceased to pay her any attention, and does not speak more to her than to me.” “You may be sure he makes up for lost time when he sees her alone,” cried Raimund, laughing. “By Jove, I envy him his recent position; what capital fun to—to supplant that stout old major!” “He never thought of such a thing,” cried Hildegarde, eagerly; “he explained at once that he could not marry.” “Better and better,” said Raimund, laughing oddly, “he seems perfectly to know what he is about.” “I don’t understand you,” began Hildegarde, but Madame de Hoffmann called her attention to the races, and when they were over she had no time to think about the matter.