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Updated: June 6, 2025
And you will not marry Franz. But after this Karen? and until this?" Karen lay silent for a moment and then turned her head restlessly away. "Why do you ask me? How can I tell?" she said. "I wish to go to Frau Lippheim. When I am well again I wish to work and make my living."
"But, dearest," said Gregory, "she can't want to make you sad, can she? She must really be glad to have you happy. She herself wanted you to get married, and had found Franz Lippheim for you, you know." Instinct warned him to go carefully. Karen shook her head with a little impatience. "One may be glad to have someone happy, yet sad for oneself. She is sad. Very, very sad."
Madame von Marwitz can't carry her about any longer like a badge from some charitable society on her shoulder. No woman who really loved Karen, or who really appreciated her," Gregory added, falling back on his concrete fact, "could have thought of Herr Lippheim as a husband for her." Mrs. Forrester sat looking up at him, and she was genuinely aghast.
"I think that if I felt it so strongly, Tante must have felt it," said Karen, and to this, after another pause, Gregory found nothing further to say than "I'm sorry." "I hardly think," said Karen, holding the back of her chair tightly and looking down again while she spoke, "that you can have realized that Herr Lippheim is not only Tante's friend, but mine.
"And these are Fräulein Lotta and Minna and Elizabeth, and this is Herr Franz. I think you have often heard Tante speak of our friends." Her ears buzzing with the name of Lippheim since the night before, Mrs.
"Herr Franz Lippheim," Gregory repeated, with an irritation glad to wreak itself on this sudden object presented opportunely. "How could you have been imagined as marrying someone called Lippheim?" "Why not, pray?" "Is he a German Jew?" Gregory inquired after a moment. "He is, indeed, of Joachim's nationality," Karen answered, in a voice from which the tears were gone.
"Yes, Franz; you must believe me. You must not question me." "Trust me, my Karen," said Herr Lippheim now; "do not fear. It shall be as you say. But I cannot take you to the Mütterchen in London, for she is not there. They have gone back to Germany, Karen, and it is to Germany that we must go." "Can you take me there, Franz, at once?
She was undoubtedly pale and heavy-eyed; but in her little dress of dark blue silk, with her narrow lawn ruffles and locket and shining hair, she showed none of the desperate signs appropriate to her circumstances nor any embarrassment at the incongruous situation in which Mrs. Forrester found her. "This is Frau Lippheim, Mrs. Forrester," she said.
"We were both keeping up appearances, your guardian and I; and I think that I kept them up best. As for Herr Lippheim, it was only when you accused me of rudeness to him that I confessed how much it astonished me to find that he was the man your guardian had wished you to marry. It does astonish me. Herr Lippheim isn't even a gentleman." "Enough!" cried Madame von Marwitz. She sprang to her feet.
"I ask you to come on any terms, my Karen. And because I love you; because you will always be the thing dearest in the world to me." "I could go to Frau Lippheim, if you would help to send me to her," said Karen, still holding her hand to her head; "I could, I am sure, explain to her and to Franz so that they would not blame me. But people must not think that I hate you." "No; no?"
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