"
"Very true, very true."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, I mean only--But that is wholly immaterial. Go on with your
story; I am all ears."
"So I asked her straight out how matters stood, and as I wished to
avoid anything bordering on solemnity, in view of her peculiar
character, and sought to take the whole matter as lightly as possible,
almost as a joke, in fact, I threw out the question, whether she would
perhaps prefer to marry Cousin von Briest, who had showered his
attentions upon her in Berlin."
"And?"
"You ought to have seen her then. Her first answer was a saucy laugh.
Why, she said, her cousin was really only a big cadet in lieutenant's
uniform. And she could not even love a cadet, to saying nothing of
marrying one. Then she spoke of Innstetten, who suddenly became for
her a paragon of manly virtues."
"How do you explain that?"
"It's quite simple. Lively, emotional, I might almost say, passionate
as she is, or perhaps just because she is so constituted, she is not
one of those who are so particularly dependent upon love, at least not
upon what truly deserves the name. To be sure, she speaks of love,
even with emphasis and a certain tone of conviction, but only because
she has somewhere read that love is indisputably the most exalted,
most beautiful, most glorious thing in the world. And it may be,
perhaps, that she has merely heard it from that sentimental person,
Hulda, and repeats it after her. But she does not feel it very deeply.
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