with speech. It would have
jarred our harmony.

Later in the day Victoria came to see me. I was sitting in the window,
looking down on the river and across to the woods of Waldenweiter. She
sat down near me and smiled at me. Victoria carried with her an
atmosphere of reality; she neither harboured the sincere delusions of
Cousin Elizabeth nor (save in public) sacrificed with my mother on the
shrine of propriety. She sat there and smiled at me.

"My dear Victoria," said I, "I know all that as well as you do. Didn't
we go through it all before, when you married William Adolphus?"

"I've just left Elsa," my sister announced. "The child's really half off
her head; she can't grasp it yet."

"She is excited, I suppose."

"It seems that Cousin Elizabeth never let her count upon it."

"I saw that she was pleased. It surprised me rather."

"Don't be a goose, Augustin," said Victoria very crossly. "Of course
she's pleased."

"But I don't think she cares for me in the very least," said I gravely.

For a moment Victoria stared. Then she observed with a perfunctory
politeness:

"Oh, you mustn't say that. I'm sure she does." She paused and added: "Of
course it's great promotion for her."

Great promotion! I liked Victoria's phrase very much. Of course it was
great promotion for Elsa. No wonder she was pleased and danced in her
walk; no wonder her eyes sparkled. Nay, it was small wonder that she
felt a kindliness for the hand whence came this great promotion.

"Yes, I suppose it is--what did you say? Oh, yes--great promotion," said
I to Victoria.

"Immense! She was really a nobody before."

A hint of jealousy lurked in Victoria's tones. Perhaps she did not like
the prospect of being no longer at the head of Forstadt society.

"There's nobody in Europe who would have refused you, I suppose," she
pursued. "Yes, she's lucky with a vengeance."

I began to laugh. Victoria frowned a little, as though my laughter
annoyed her. However I had my laugh out; the picture of my position,
sketched by Victoria, deserved that. Then I lit a cigarette and stood
looking out of the window.

"Poor child!" said I. "How long will it last?"

Victoria made no answer. She sat where she was for a few moments; then
she got up, flung an arm round my neck, and gave me a brief
business-like kiss.

"I never knew anybody quite so good as you at being miserable," she
said.

But I was not miserable. I was, on the whole, very considerably
relie