others came rushing in, that the first were
quite effaced. Her first impression of the kindness of Lieutenant Y.
was, "how good he is!" the second was, "perhaps he may endure me!" And
hereupon a flood of imagined courtesy and courtship poured in, which
almost turned her head. But she would not marry, heaven forbid! yet
still it would be a divine thing to have a lover, and to be oneself "an
object" of passion, like Sara and Louise. Perhaps the young Lieutenant
Y. might be related to the Countess Solenstrale, and, oh heavens! how
well it would sound when it was said, "A nephew of the Countess
Solenstrale is a passionate admirer of Petrea Frank!" What a coming
forth that would be! A less thing than that might make one dizzy. Petrea
was highly excited by these imaginings, and was suddenly changed by them
into an actual coquette, who set herself at work by all possible means
to enslave "her object;" in which a little, and for the moment very
white, hand (for even hands have their moments), figuring about the
head, played a conspicuous part. Petrea's amazing animation and
talkativeness directed the eye-glass of her mother--for her mother was
somewhat short-sighted--often in this direction, and called forth
glances besides from Louise, which positively would have operated with a
very subduing effect, had not Petrea been too much excited to remark
them. The observations and smiles of her neighbours Petrea mistook for
tokens of applause; but she deceived herself, for they only amused
themselves with the little coquetting, but not very dangerous lady.
Lieutenant Y., nevertheless, seemed to find pleasure in her liveliness,
for when the quadrille was ended, he continued a dispute which had
commenced during it, and for this purpose conducted her into one of the
little side rooms, which strengthened her in the idea of having made a
conquest. Isabella Aftonstjerna was singing there a little French song,
the refrain of which was--

Hommage a la plus belle,
Honneur au plus vaillant!

The world was all brightness to Petrea: the song carried her back to the
beautiful days of knighthood: Lieutenant Y. appeared to her as the ideal
of knightly honour, and the glass opposite showed her own face and nose
in such an advantageous light, that she, meeting herself there all
beaming with joy, fancied herself almost handsome. A beautiful rose-tree
was blossoming in the window, and Petrea, breaking off a flower,
presented it to the Lieuten