"Are you a foreigner, Herr Rojanow?" she asked.

A black shadow crossed Hartmut's brow, and he hesitated for a moment
before he answered, coldly:

"Yes, Fräulein."

"I thought as much from your name and appearance, and from the peculiar
opinions which you express, as well."

"At any rate, they are unbiased and candid," answered Hartmut, nettled
by the reproof which lay in the last words. "I have been pretty much all
over the world, and am just back now from the Orient. To him who knows
the ocean with its radiant, transparent blue, or its terrible, deadly
storms, to one who has basked in the witcheries of the warmth and light
of the tropics, everything here seems cold and colorless; these eternal
green forests are, in fact, the only features of a German landscape."

The compassionate shrug of the shoulders with which he concluded,
appeared to rouse his companion from her imperturbability. An expression
of displeasure crossed her face, and her voice had in it a tone of
resentment, as she answered:

"That is altogether a matter of taste. I know, if not the Orient, at
least Southern Europe very well; those sunny, glowing landscapes, with
their vivid colorings attract one in the beginning--that is true
enough--but soon, too soon, exhaust one. You lose all strength and
vitality; you can stagnate and dream, but you can never live and work.
But why discuss it? Naturally you know nothing of our great forests, or
our people either, I presume."