For some minutes neither of the cousins spoke, and Frau von
Sigmundskron sat doing nothing, which was altogether contrary to her
nature, her work lying upon her knees and her hands joined one upon the
other. As for Greifenstein, he had at last folded the paper to his
satisfaction and had returned it to his pocket. Presently the sound of
his wife's footsteps was heard upon the gravel path. She seemed less
excited than when she had left her seat.

'I have kept you waiting,' she said, as she came up. 'I could not find
what I wanted, and when I did that dreadful Pretzel was swallowing a
pair of scissors and nearly had a fit, so that I had to give him a hot
bath to calm him. He is such a care! You have no idea--but here it is,
if it is not too late. I am so dreadfully sorry! I thought I should
have died! Do let me put it upon your finger.'

The scratch had entirely disappeared, but Frau von Sigmundskron did not
wish to appear ungracious, or ungrateful, and held out her hand without
any remark. It would have seemed uncharitable to make Clara's errand
look wholly superfluous before Greifenstein. But he paid very little
attention to what was passing, for he was preoccupied with his own
thoughts, and before long he rose, excused himself for going away by
saying that he had some pressing correspondence, and left the two
ladies to their own devices.

Frau von Sigmundskron felt rather uncomfortable, as she always did when
she was alone with her hostess. To-day she had an unpleasant
consciousness that she was in the way, and that, if she were not
present, Clara would have already disappeared, in order to be alone.
She resolved to make the interview as short as possible.