"But I can just as well say 'Not at home.'"
"Oh no, pray don't."
Hot milk was brought. Albrecht clasped the tall, thick, studded glass in both hands.
"Ah, something warm," he said. "How cold it is already in these parts! And I've been frozen the whole summer in Hollerbrunn. Haven't you started fires yet? I have. But then again the smell of the stoves upsets me. All stoves smell. Von Buhl promises me central heating for the Old Schloss every autumn. But it seems not to be feasible."
"Poor Albrecht," said Ditlinde, "at this time of year you used to be already in the South, so long as father was alive. You must long for it."
"Your sympathy does you credit, dear Ditlinde," answered he, still in a low and slightly lisping voice. "But we must show that I am on the spot. I must rule the country, as you know, that's what I'm here for. To-day I have been graciously pleased to allow some worthy citizen—I'm sorry I cannot remember his name—to accept and wear a foreign order. Further, I have had a telegram sent to the annual meeting of the Horticultural Society, in which I assumed the honorary Presidency of the Society and pledged my word to further its efforts in every way—without really knowing what furthering I could do beyond sending the telegram, for the members are quite well able to take care of themselves. Further, I have deigned to confirm the choice of a certain worthy fellow to be mayor of my fair city of Siebenberge—in connexion with which I should like to know whether this my subject will be a better mayor for my confirmation than he would have been without it.…"
"Well, well, Albrecht, those are trifles!" said Ditlinde. "I'm convinced that you've had more serious business to do.…"
