My mother looked after the betrothed couple as they walked away; I looked at my mother's fine high-bred resolute face.
"I'm so glad," said she at last, "to see Victoria so happy. I was afraid at one time that she'd never take to it. Of course we had other hopes."
The last words were a hit at me. I ignored them; that battle had been fought, the victory won, and paid for by me in handsome fashion.
"Has she taken to it?" I asked as carelessly as I could. But my mother's eyes turned keenly on me.
"Have you any reason for thinking she hasn't?" came in quick question.
"No," I answered.
The sun was shining and Princess Heinrich opened her parasol very leisurely. She rose to her feet and stood there for a moment. Then in a smooth, even, and what I may call reasonable voice, she remarked:
"My dear Augustin, from time to time all girls have fancies. We mothers know that it doesn't do to pay any attention to them. They soon go if they're let alone. We shall meet at lunch, I hope?"
I bowed respectfully, but perhaps I looked a little doubtful.
"It really doesn't do to take any notice of them," said my mother over her shoulder.
So we took no notice of them; my sister's midnight flight to my room and to my arms was between her and me, and for all the world as though it has never been, save that it left behind it a little legacy of renewed kindliness and trust. For that much I was thankful; but I could not forget the rest.
A month later she was married to William Adolphus at Forstadt.
