An English girl of such family--with such a
mother! A momentary caprice, such as all young men of his class
amused themselves with and forgot--but nothing permanent. It would
not, indeed, be approved in those High Places where obedience was
the first commandment of the Decalogue.
But he did not go. He even descended a shade from his inaccessible
plane. It was not difficult for him to obtain details of the odd
loneliness of the girl's position. Fraulein Hirsch was quite ready
to explain that, in spite of the easy morals and leniency of rank
and fashion in England, she was a sort of little outcast from
sacred inner circles. There were points she burned to make clear
to him, and she made them so. She was in secret fiercely desirous
that he should realize to the utmost, that, whatsoever rashness
this young flame of loveliness inspired in him, it was NOT possible
that he could regard it with any shadow of serious intention.
She had always disliked the girl, and now her weak mildness and
humility suddenly transformed themselves into something else--a
sort of maternal wolfishness. It did not matter what happened to
the girl--and whatsoever befell or did not befall her, she--Mathilde
Hirsch--could neither gain nor lose hope through it. But, if
she did not displease him and yet saved him from final disaster,
he would, perhaps, be grateful to her--and perhaps, speak with
approval--or remember it--and his Noble Mother most certainly
would--if she ever knew.
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