But he said
nothing. As for Sophia, she preserved a mien of amiable
cheerfulness. She exerted herself to convince him by her attitude
that she bore no resentment, that she had determined to forget the
incident, that in short she was the forgiving angel of his dreams.
She did not, however, succeed entirely in being quite natural.
Confronted by his misery, it would have been impossible for her to
be quite natural, and at the same time quite cheerful!
A little later the social atmosphere of the flat began to grow
querulous, disputatious and perverse. The nerves of everybody were
seriously strained. This applied to the whole city. Days of heavy
rains followed the sharp frosts, and the town was, as it were,
sodden with woe. The gates were closed. And though nine-tenths of
the inhabitants never went outside the gates, the definite and
absolute closing of them demoralized all hearts. Gas was no longer
supplied. Rats, cats, and thorough-bred horses were being eaten
and pronounced 'not bad.' The siege had ceased to be a novelty.
Friends did not invite one another to a 'siege-dinner' as to a
picnic. Sophia, fatigued by regular overwork, became weary of the
situation. She was angry with the Prussians for dilatoriness, and
with the French for inaction, and she poured out her English
spleen on her boarders.
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