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But no one heard this quiet protest. Now the baron in his turn, walking more and more quickly through the room, spoke on. Maryan remained sitting on the Louis XI box while the baron walked and complained of the narrowness of relations and the low level of civilization in the city: "This is the real fatherland of darned socks. Everything here has the mustiness of locked up store-houses.
Only then did Maryan laugh unaffectedly, almost loudly. "What a question, my father; love is a sanctuary, built on a poppy-seed; love then is sacred; while my fancy for that beautiful Bianca " "Is a poppy-seed which you are transporting through the world on special trains," finished Darvid. "Have you heard of that, father?" "I have seen it." "Ah, you were at the station!
"Well old man," said Maryan, turning to Kranitski, "what are they doing on the stage?" Kranitski dropped his hand with the opera-glass quickly and blurted out: "What is the question, Maryan?" His eyes, which were fine yet in their prolonged lids, were glazed with a tear. "Ho, ho! romantic, there is a tear in your eye. The subject must be affecting! Let us listen!"
"On the contrary!" exclaimed the baron, "I beg pardon, my dear, real judges always value him highly, and he is greatly sought for by museums. His cartoons when placed at the side of Overbeck's Triumph of Religion in Art lose nothing; on the contrary, that compunction distinguishes his figures." "But thou canst not compare him with Overbeck!" said Maryan, with indignation. "I can, I can!
Do you not remember your confidential statements to me that you wished to give your daughters in marriage within those circles to which my connections might be a convenient bridge for you? Do you not remember your requests that I should introduce Maryan into the best society, and teach him the manners prevailing there? Very well!
"Yes, we heard of it by chance; we went to examine it, and imagine, we found this pearl in the possession of an Arcadian who has neither a conception, nor the shadow of a conception of the Nazarenes, or who Steinle " "But perhaps we should pardon him," laughed Maryan, "for the Germans themselves know almost nothing of Steinle, who fell into disfavor among his successors."
In spite of hearty eating he did not forget the duties of a welcome guest. He kept up conversation with the master of the house, who told him carelessly of a rare and beautiful picture found at some collector's. "A real, a genuine Overbeck. We were to examine it with Maryan, but since Maryan did not come " He turned to young Darvid: "Why did you not come?" There was no answer.
Two among these young men occupied public attention beyond others that winter: Baron Emil Blauendorf, and Maryan Darvid, both of families recently, but greatly, enriched.
With his hands in the pockets of his flannel sack he paced through the room. Maryan had translated that quatrain quite beautifully. Without interrupting his pacing he repeated the translation. The bell rang in the antechamber; Maryan entered the drawing-room. He was paler than usual and had dark lines under his eyes, which were very bright.
"Splendidly expressed!" exclaimed Irene from the mirror. "Cara's soul is so primitive, yours " "So decadent," put in Maryan. "That you have a right to be called her great-grandfather." "I greet you great-grandmother!" laughed he at Irene. "I say this, mother, for, as you see, I understand my elder sister perfectly, but not the little one yet; however, that will come some time surely soon.
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