My brother-in-law looked discontented. Yet as a rule he resigned himself readily enough to not understanding things.
"Victoria says that Princess Heinrich requested the Duchess to manage that Elsa"
"My dear William Adolphus, the transaction sounds complicated."
"Complicated? What do you mean? Princess Heinrich requested the Duchess not to let Elsa read it."
"Ah, my mother has always good reasons."
"But Elsa had read it already."
"How unfortunate wisdom always is! Did Elsa like it?"
"She told Victoria that it seemed great nonsense."
"Yes, she would think so."
"Well, it is, you know," said William Adolphus.
"Of course it is, my dear fellow," said I.
Yet I wanted to know more about it, and observing that Varvilliers was stated to have been present in the Diplomatic Gallery, I sent for him to come to Artenberg and describe the speech as it actually passed. When I had sent my message I went forth in search of my fiancée. She had read the report already; my mother's measures had been taken too late. What did pretty Elsa think? She thought it was all great nonsense. Poor pretty Elsa!
My heart was hungry. Wetter had broken—as surely he had meant to break—the sleep of memory and the sense of contrast. I went to her not with love, but with some vague expectation, a sort of idea that, contrary to all likelihood, I might again have in some measure what had come to me before, springing now indeed not whence I would, but whence it
