Your conduct is so light - so light,'
she repeated, the fan wavering higher like a butterfly, 'that
perhaps you do not truly understand.' The Countess rolled her fan
together, laid it in her lap, and rose to a less languorous
position. 'Indeed,' she continued, 'I should be sorry to see any
young woman in your situation. You began with every advantage -
birth, a suitable marriage - quite pretty too - and see what you
have come to! My poor girl, to think of it! But there is nothing
that does so much harm,' observed the Countess finely, 'as giddiness
of mind.' And she once more unfurled the fan, and approvingly
fanned herself.
'I will no longer permit you to forget yourself,' cried Seraphina.
'I think you are mad.'
'Not mad,' returned von Rosen. 'Sane enough to know you dare not
break with me to-night, and to profit by the knowledge. I left my
poor, pretty Prince Charming crying his eyes out for a wooden doll.
My heart is soft; I love my pretty Prince; you will never understand
it, but I long to give my Prince his doll, dry his poor eyes, and
send him off happy. O, you immature fool!' the Countess cried,
rising to her feet, and pointing at the Princess the closed fan that
now began to tremble in her hand. 'O wooden doll!' she cried, 'have
you a heart, or blood, of any nature? This is a man, child - a man
who loves you. O, it will not happen twice! it is not common;
beautiful and clever women look in vain for it.
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