The intention was so evident that she could not
help smiling a little under her hood, and reflecting with some
satisfaction that upon this subject, at least, she was more than a
match for him.
'Perhaps she did,' she answered. 'I remember that she once had a blue
frock.'
The triviality of what they were saying to each other struck Greif all
at once, as compared with the horror of what they had left behind them
at Greifenstein. It was but the third day since that fearful
catastrophe had darkened his life, and he was exchanging remarks about
the clothes Hilda had worn when she was a child. He thought he must be
shamefully heartless, unless he were going mad, which, considering his
words, seemed probable to himself. He leaned back again, and stared
absently at the moving landscape. It seemed to him that his father's
spirit was gliding along, high in the black trees beside the road, like
mighty Wodin in the northern forests, watching the son he had left
behind and listening to the foolish words that fell from his lips. The
baroness attributed the sudden chill of his manner, and the gloomy look
on his face to another cause.
'That was very long ago,' she said, taking advantage of his silence.
'Since then, Hilda has grown up, and you have become a man, and the
love that began when you were children has--'
'I cannot marry her!' exclaimed Greif, so sharply and suddenly that his
companion started and looked anxiously into his face.
'Then you will kill her,' answered Frau von Sigmundskron, after a short
and painful pause.
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