"No; her daughter is coming too, and the necessary attendants. You must resign the guest-chamber for to-day, Michael. The double drive over the mountains would be too fatiguing for the ladies; they will stay overnight, and accept the simple hospitality of the parsonage. I spoke with the sacristan about a room for you; he will have one ready for you to occupy until to-morrow."
Michael at first made no reply; he walked to the window and stood with folded arms looking out. At last, after a long pause, he said, in an undertone, "I wish I had gone home."
"Why? Because these ladies bear the name of Steinrück, and you have chosen to outlaw, to put beyond the pale of your sympathy, all of that name? How often have I entreated you to rid yourself of this unchristian hatred!"
"Hatred, do you call it?" the young man asked, in a voice that trembled slightly.
"What else is it? When you told me the other day of your meeting with your grandfather, I saw how stubborn and implacable you still were, and now you extend your ill feeling to the Count's innocent relatives, who have shown you nothing but kindness. You, to be sure, told me nothing of your acquaintance with them, but Hans was more communicative. He is most enthusiastic about the young Countess."
"For as long as he can see her. As soon as we return to town he will forget all about her. It is his fashion."
The words sounded contemptuous, and so bitter, that Valentin shook his head disapprovingly. "It is fortunate in this case that it is so," he rejoined. "It would be sad for Hans to be in earnest, for, apart from the difference of rank, the hand of the Countess Hertha was disposed of long ago."
"Disposed of? To whom?" Michael asked, hastily, turning from the window.
"To Count Raoul Steinrück, her relative. In their sphere marriages are usually contracted for family reasons, and this one was thus arranged years ago. There has been no betrothal as yet, because the Countess could not bring herself to part with her daughter, but it is to take place shortly."
The priest had formerly been the Countess's confessor, and was still perfectly aware of all the family affairs; he mentioned them now as matters of course, and went on speaking of them in detail, not observing that his listener seemed thunderstruck. Michael had turned to the window again, and stood with his face pressed against the pane, never stirring until Valentin had finished speaking.