They tried to make me play earlier on and even sing; Uncle Arne wanted me to very much but I took good care not to, because, although I quite like it, I’m no good at all. Have you brought anything with you, Elizabeth? You always have something new and I saw that you had a music-case under your arm when you came in. Let’s see.”

The girls continued to chat whilst in the corner diagonally opposite the four men sat playing whist, Arne as usual blaming Petersen for playing so slowly, as slowly, he was complaining, as at the time of the Congress of Vienna.

Petersen laughed: “Yes, exactly as I used to play at the time of the Congress of Vienna; people used to play slowly then, because it was considered distinguished to do so and later on I must tell you a story about that which is not very well known and as far as I know came from Thorwaldsen,[1] who had it from Wilhelm von Humboldt …”

“Alexander von Humboldt,” corrected Arne.

“Oh no, please allow me, Arne, from Wilhelm von Humboldt. Wilhelm was particularly …”

“Careful, Petersen.”

The game proceeded without further interruption and even the girls lowered their voices, for Fräulein Dobschütz had started to read from a big newspaper which the postman had brought that afternoon. She had not yet properly started her reading but was trying to find one or two matters of interest. The Italian war was still struggling in its death-throes, so first of all she chose the headlines and read in a querying voice: “Archduke Albrecht and Admiral Tegethoff?” The countess shook her head. “On the march to Magenta? … Bonnemain’s Brigade of Cuirassiers? …” Another shake of the head. “Our correspondent reports from Charlottenburg on the state of health of King Frederick William IV of Prussia? …”

“Yes,” said the countess, “read that, my dear Julie. The piece from Charlottenburg. I’m not interested in all those stories about the war, they are all the same, someone is always collapsing fatally wounded and dying so that something or other called Poland or France or for all I care Schleswig-Holstein may live. But it’s always the same. This modern cult of nationalism is not my sort of worship. I prefer something with purely human interest—and that includes religion, at least for me …. That poor unfortunate king in his palace at Charlottenburg; … such a clear-sighted man and now his mind is all in darkness. Yes, that interests me. Is it long?”

“One column.”

“That is rather long. Anyway, please start and we can always stop.”

So Fräulein Dobschütz read: “All reports are agreed that the king’s state of health is deteriorating; his power of understanding is weakening and his periods of lucidity are becoming less and less frequent. Naturally the sick man’s condition has now started to have repercussions on matters of state and certain considerations that have hitherto been possible can now no longer be taken into account. The fact can no longer be hidden that a complete change in the system of government is impending and that this change will show itself in foreign policy. The link with Russia and Austria has weakened and a rapprochement with the Western Powers, and certainly with England, seems increasingly likely. All these events may recall the period from 1806 to 1813 which, following upon the previous humiliation, was a period of preparation and rearmament. The Prince Regent is incessantly concerning himself with such rearmament and when Prussia has reached the state of military preparedness which he is striving to achieve, we shall be in a position to see what will happen. This policy will show itself nowhere more plainly than in Schleswig-Holstein.”

“That will do,” cried the countess. “I thought that the article would be giving anecdotes about the court, and all the trivialities that are their main concern most of the time; and instead, he’s making all sorts of political prophecies. I don’t believe in prophecies that are always being made by those least qualified to make them …. But what is that picture on the back-page, the castle with towers … ?”

Julie ran her eye over it and said: “It is an advertisement for a Swiss boarding-school, on Lake Geneva, naturally. That little building there is the school and the big hotel in the foreground is for show.”

“Read it to me. Advertisements about schools interest me.”

“Our school at Beau-Rivage is now entering its twenty-fifth year. During this period, young ladies from every part of the world have been pupils here and, to the best of our knowledge, have always left with very pleasant memories of us. This we doubtless owe, in addition to God’s blessing, without which we could do nothing, to our strong guiding principles: complete cosmopolitanism and non-sectarianism.