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 TIMOTHY SAMARA

Design
A VISUAL
COMMUNICATION
MANUAL
Elements
Understanding
the rules and knowing
when to break them

TH IRD ED ITIO N

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 © 2020 Quarto Publishing Group USA Inc.
Text © Quarto Publishing Group USA Inc.
Images © 2020 Credited Contributors

First published in 2020 by Rockport Publishers,

an imprint of The Quarto Group,
100 Cummings Center, Suite 265-D, Beverly, MA 01915, USA.
T (978) 282-9590 F (978) 283-2742 QuartoKnows.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without written permission of the copyright owners. All images in this
book have been reproduced with the knowledge and prior consent of the
artists concerned, and no responsibility is accepted by producer, publisher,
or printer for any infringement of copyright or otherwise, arising from the
contents of this publication. Every effort has been made to ensure that
credits accurately comply with information supplied. We apologize for any
inaccuracies that may have occurred and will resolve inaccurate or missing
information in a subsequent reprinting of the book.

Rockport Publishers titles are also available at discount for retail,

wholesale, promotional, and bulk purchase. For details, contact the
Special Sales Manager by email at [email protected] or by mail
at The Quarto Group, Attn: Special Sales Manager, 100 Cummings Center,
Suite 265-D, Beverly, MA 01915, USA.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

ISBN: 978-1-63159-872-2

Digital edition published in 2020

eISBN: 978-1-63159-873-9

Originally found under the following Library of Congress

Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Samara, Timothy.
Design elements : a graphic style manual :
understanding the rules and knowing when to
break them / Timothy Samara.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-1-59253-261-2 (flexibind)
ISBN-10: 1-59253-261-6 (flexibind)
1. Graphic design (Typography) 2. Layout
(Printing) I. Title.
Z246 .S225
686.2’2—dc22
2006019038
CIP

Design: Timothy Samara

Page Layout: Timothy Samara

Contents

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 6 What Is Graphic Design?

8 Twenty Rules for

Making Good Design

18
FORM AND SPACE
20 DEFINING VISUAL LANGUAGE
34 ATTRIBUTES OF FORM
48 PUTTING STUFF INTO SPACE
302 Causin’ Some Trouble: 70 COMPOSITIONAL STRATEGIES
Breaking Every Rule in
This Book

314 Index (By Subject) 84

COLOR FUNDAMENTALS
86 THE IDENTITY OF COLOR
318 Directory of Contributors
92 CHROMATIC INTERACTION
108 COLOR LOGIC AND SYSTEMS
320 About the Author 118 WHEN COLOR MEANS SOMETHING
and Acknowledgments
126 COLOR IN THE REAL WORLD

132
CHOOSING AND USING TYPE
134 STRUCTURE AND OPTICS
140 ISSUES RELATED TO STYLE
150 THE MECHANICS OF TEXTSETTING
164 TYPE IS VISUAL, TOO
174 TYPE AS INFORMATION

194
THE WORLD OF IMAGERY
196 THE NATURE OF IMAGES
206 MEDIA AND METHODS
220 CONTENT, CONCEPT, CONTEXT
234 NARRATIVE MASSAGE

242
PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER
244 MERGING TYPE AND IMAGE
256 WORKING WITH GRIDS
268 INTUITIVE ARRANGEMENT
274 DESIGN AS A SYSTEM
294 THE WORKING PROCESS

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 What Is Graphic Design?
A graphic designer is a communicator: someone who creation historically had been commissioned by patrons,
takes ideas and gives them visual form so that others can it wasn’t until the 1830s that the mystique of the bohemian
understand them. The designer uses imagery, symbols, painter as “expresser of self ” arose and, consequently, a
type, color, and materials (whether printed or on screen) marked distinction between fine and commercial art.
to represent the ideas that must be conveyed; and to Designers encouraged this distinction for philosophical,
organize them into a unified experience that is intended as well as strategic, reasons, especially as they began to
to evoke a particular response. seek recognition for design as a profession that could add
—— tremendous value to corporate endeavors.
While more or less confined to the creation of typefaces ——
and books from the Middle Ages until the Industrial Revolu- In the fifty-odd years since, the graphic designer has been
tion of the late 1700s and early 1800s, design expanded touted as everything from visual strategist to cultural
into advertising, periodicals, signage, posters, pamphlets, arbiter (and, since the late 1970s, as an author as well),
and ephemera with the appearance of a new consumer shaping not only the corporate bottom line through clever
marketplace. The term “graphic design” itself appeared visual manipulation of a brand-hungry public, but also the
more recently (attributed to WA Dwiggins, an American larger visual language of the contemporary environment.
illustrator and book designer, in 1922, to describe his All these functions are important to graphic design…but,
particular activities). The formal study of design didn’t lest we forget the simplicity of the designer’s true nature,
come about until the 1920s, and the term entered into let us return to what a graphic designer does. A graphic
wide usage only after World War II. designer assimilates verbal concepts and gives them form.
——
In contrast to other disciplines in the visual arts, graphic
design’s purpose is typically defined by a client—it’s a
service paid for by a company or other organization—
rather than from within the designer. Although artistic

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 Graphic design is a complex combination of words and
pictures, numbers and charts, photographs and illustrations…
A popular art and a practical art, an applied art and an ancient
art. Simply put, it is the art of visualizing ideas… But it is
also an idiomatic language, a language of cues and puns and
symbols and allusions, of cultural references and perceptual
inferences that challenge both the intellect and the eye.
JESSICA HELFAND / Designer, writer, theorist / Cofounder, DesignObserver.com

This “form-giving” is a discipline that integrates an But graphic design is greater than just the various aspects
enormous amount of knowledge and skill with intuition, that comprise it. Together, they establish a totality of
creatively applied in different ways as the designer con- tangible, and often intangible, experiences. A designer is
fronts the variables of each new project. responsible for the intellectual and emotional vitality
—— of the experience he or she visits upon the audience, and
A designer must understand semiotics—the processes and his or her task is to elevate it above the banality of literal
relationships inherent in perception and interpretation transmission or the confusing self-indulgent egoism of
of meaning through visual and verbal material. He or she mere eye candy. And yet, beauty is a function, after all,
must have expertise in the flow of information—instruc- of any relevant visual message. Just as prose can be dull
tional strategies, data representation, legibility, usability, or straightforward or well edited and lyrical, so too can
cognitive ordering, and hierarchic problem solving— a utilitarian object be designed to be more than just simply
extending into typography, the mechanics of alphabet what it is. “If function is important to the intellect,”
design, and reading. Designing requires analytical and writes respected Swiss designer Willi Kunz, in his book,
technical mastery of image making—how shapes, colors, Typography: Macro- and Micro-Aesthetics, “then form is
and textures work to depict ideas, achieve aesthetic cohe- important to the emotions…Our day-to-day life is enriched
sion and dynamism, and signify higher-order concepts or degraded by our environment.”
while evoking a strong emotional response. Further, a ——
designer must be more than casually familiar with psychol- The focus of this book is on these formal, or visual, aspects
ogy and history, both with respect to cultural narratives, of graphic design and, implicitly, their relevance for the
symbolism, and ritualized experiences, as well as to more messages to be created using them. It’s a kind of user
commercial, consumer-based impulses and responses (what manual for creating what is understood to be strong design
is often referred to as “marketing”). Last, but certainly not and empowering readers to effectively—and skillfully—
least, a designer must have great facility with (and often, harness their creativity to meet the various challenges that
in-depth, specialized knowledge of ) multiple technologies designers encounter every day.
needed to implement the designed solution: printing media
and techniques, film and video, digital coding, industrial
processes, architectural fabrication, and so on.

Images, left to right

FOR THE PEOPLE / TASMANIA
LABORATÓRIO SECRETO / BRAZIL
CLASSMATE STUDIO / HUNGARY
B&B STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM

5 DE S I GN E L E M E N T S

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 Rules can be broken—
but never ignored.

DAVID JURY/ TYPOGRAPHER/ From his book About Face: Reviving

the Rules of Typography RotoVision, London, 1996.

TWENTY RULES FOR

MAKING GOOD DESIGN

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 When people talk about “good” or “bad” results by breaking them out of ignorance.
design, they’re referring to notions of In addition, rules help frame communal
quality they’ve picked up from education discussion about interpreting and evaluat-
and experience; and just as often, from the ing creative work so there’s at least some
experience of thousands of designers and consensus about where to start. If every-
critics before them. Some of these notions thing is “good,” then nothing really can be.
are aesthetic (“asymmetry is more beautiful Relativism is great, but after a point, it just
than symmetry,” for example) and some- gets in the way of honest judgment and
times strictly functional (“don’t reverse a celebrates mediocrity.
serif typeface from a solid background if it’s ——
less than 10 points in size, because it’ll fill By no means should any rule, including
in”). Both kinds of observation are helpful those that follow, be taken as cosmic law.
for avoiding pitfalls and striving to achieve Unconvinced? Then simply turn to page
design solutions that aren’t hampered by 302, where breaking every rule in this book
irritating difficulties. is advocated wholeheartedly. But these
—— rules are a starting point: an excellent list
Every time one attempts to cite rules gov- of issues to consider, especially if you’re
erning what constitutes quality, however, only just starting out as a designer. (Even
people are bound to get their underwear in seasoned professionals can do with a little
a knot: “That’s so limiting!” To those refresher now and then.) In the end, you
people, I’ll say this: get over it. Rules are will decide how and when to apply the
guidelines, based on accumulated experi- rules, or not…But you’ll also understand
ence from many sources. They always come the likely results of either course of action.
with exceptions and can be broken at any
time, but not without consequences. The con-
sequence of breaking one rule might mean
reinforcing another; in the right context,
it might even mean true innovation—in
which such a discovery, oddly enough, will
establish yet another rule. This is how cre-
ativity works. It’s important to know which
rules have come to be considered important
(and why) so as to avoid really unfortunate

7 DE S I GN E L E M E N T S

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 01
HAVE A CONCEPT
If there’s no message, no story, A
no idea, no narrative, or no useful p
experience to be had, it’s not in
graphic design. It doesn’t matter s
how amazing the thing is to look g
at; without a clear message, it’s an b
empty, although beautiful, shell. d
That’s about as complicated as this d
rule can get. Let’s move on. ti
c
u
s
s

By printing the text to appear as though it’s on built with gigantic, interlocking puzzle pieces that
the back of the poster (left) but folded forward, the were fundamental to their philosophies and how
designer transforms the literal into a metaphor they constructed their home in the 1950s.
for the architectural and gestural qualities of the SULKI+MIN / SOUTH KOREA 
dance it promotes. An exhibition about designers PEOPLEDESIGN / UNITED STATES 
and architects Ray and Charles Eames (right) is

02
COMMUNICATE—
DON’T DECORATE
Oooh…neat! But what exactly is it? M
Form carries meaning, no matter how to
simple or abstract, and form that’s not th
right for a given message junks it up in
and confuses. It’s great to experiment p
with images and effects, but any- in
thing that doesn’t contribute to the c
composition or meaning is simply eye m
candy that no longer qualifies as de- it
sign. Know what each visual element th
does and why, or choose another with
purpose.

The notion of “blooming” underpins a publica-

tion of graduating students’ design work; unique
abstract ink washes create the sense of unfurling
flower petals without being literal.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES

8 D ESIG N ELEMEN T S

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 03 What viewers might initially
perceive as random graphic lines
immediately transform into
prison bars because of the presence
BE UNIVERSAL of the butterfly: it’s a powerful,
A very large audience, not a few commonly understood symbol for
transformation and freedom. Even
people who are “in the know,” must before viewers have a chance to
interpret what you mean with those see the word “prison” in the text at
shapes, colors, and images. Sure, you the bottom of this poster, they will
get it, and other designers will get it, have processed this pictorial infor-
but ultimately it’s the public who must mation and used it as a context to
do so. Speak to the world at large; arrive at the intended meaning of
draw upon humanity’s shared narra- the lines.
tives of form and metaphor and make LSD SPACE / SPAIN

connections, not boundaries. If you’re

unsure whether your ideas make
sense, show them to someone on the
street and find out.

04
SPEAK WITH ONE
VISUAL VOICE
Make sure all the elements “talk”
to each other. Good design assumes
the visual language of a piece—its
internal logic—is resolved so that its
parts all reinforce each other, not only
in shape or weight or placement, but
conceptually as well. When one ele-
ment seems out of place or unrelated,
it disconnects from the totality and
the message is weakened.

In this set of exhibition collateral, a specific visual Stroke contrast and graphic details in the serif type
language of silhouetted images—all similarly geo- unify with the imagery’s ornate internal details,
metric in their shapes, monochromatically colored, while contrasting with its planar quality.
and transparent—responds to the type’s symmetri- GOLDEN COSMOS / GERMANY
cal axis with a rhythmic left-to-right positioning.

9 T W E N T Y R U L E S F OR M A K I N G G OOD D E SI G N

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 05
LEARN TO LIVE
WITH LESS
This is a riff on the “less is more” the- F
ory, not so much an aesthetic dogma im
now as it is a bit of common sense: the Exquisite, decisive control of the s
more stuff jammed into a given space, minimal elements, alignments, a
the harder it is to see what needs to be and the spaces around and to
seen. There’s a big difference between between them creates a dynamic, w
almost architectural space that
“complicated” and “complex.” True c
is active and three-dimensional,
power lies in creativity applied to very which is all you really need for
th
little—without sacrificing a rich expe- a brochure for a contemporary e
rience. Adding more than needed architecture firm. in
is just “gilding the lily.” LSD SPACE / SPAIN b

06
CREATE SPACE—
DON’T FILL IT
Negative (or "white") space is critical A
to good design. It calls attention to e
content and gives the eyes a resting c
place. Negative space is just as much il
a shape in a layout as any other thing. s
Carve it out and relate it to other ele- c
ments. A lack of negative space over- s
whelms an audience, and the result o
is an oppressive presentation that no a
one will want to deal with. d
th
th

From within a confined space enclosed by the visual angles

created by headline and body text, hands stretch outward to
release a symbolic butterfly; the image’s message is restated
subtly by the compositional space with which it interacts.
LOEWY / UNITED KINGDOM

10 D ESIG N ELEMEN T S

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 07
GIVE ’EM THE
There’s no way to avoid looking at the
giant red hand in this poster before
focusing on anything else—despite a
fair amount of dramatic, supporting
ONE-TWO PUNCH visual activity (the fireworks and the
Focus viewers’ attention on one dynamically rotated type elements).
As explosive and rhythmic as these
important thing first—a big shape, a latter forms are, their visual presence
startling image or type treatment, or pales in comparison to the overall
a daring color—and then lead them size, boldness, and color contrast the
to the less important items in a logical designer has applied to the hand so
way. This is establishing a “hierar- that it’s the thing that first draws the
chy”—the order in which you want viewer in—and shows them where to
them to look at the material—and it is start looking.
essential for access and understand- PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES

ing. Without it, you’ve already lost the

battle.

08
BEWARE OF
SYMMETRY
As in nature, symmetry can be quite
effective, but approach it with extreme
caution. Symmetrical layouts eas-
ily become static and flat, and they
severely limit flexibility in arranging
content that doesn’t quite fit the
symmetrical mold. Symmetry also is
often perceived as traditional (not
always relevant) and may suggest the
designer is lazy and uninventive—as
though the format has directed how
the material will be arranged.

While the designers of this book, which organizes text through the use of extreme scale contrast, transpar-
and headings relative to both the vertical and horizon- ency, and rotation of text elements.
tal center axes of the pages, retained the appropriate STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES
gravitas needed for its academic subject, they nonethe-
less also counteracted its potentially static quality

11 T W E N T Y R U L E S F OR M A K I N G G OOD D E SI G N

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 09
FIGHT THE
FLATNESS
People make a weird assumption C
about two-dimensional visual stuff, a
and that is: it’s flat (go figure)! a
Layouts that fail to impart a sense p
of depth or movement—because a
everything is the same size, weight, s
color, and perceived distance from a
everything else—are dull and life- th
less. “Without contrast,” Paul Rand d
once said, “you’re dead.” Fool the re
viewer into seeing deep space by ex- d
ploiting changes in size and transpar- s
ency. Create differences in density and c
openness by clustering some elements a
and pushing others apart. Apply color b
to forms such that some appear to th
advance, while others recede. Engage in
viewers by convincing them the flat Decisively applied contrasts (in size, texture, tonal punches backwards in space like a window or “hole” b
surface they’re seeing is really a win- range, shape, and color) create optical pushing and in the white surface. Type and graphical dots appear a
pulling between image and type elements in this web to occupy a generally middle distance, but changes
dow into a bigger dimensional world.
page—not only across the surface, but in the per- in their colors and gray values further vary percep-
ceived deep, illusory three-dimensional space they tion of their individual spatial locations.
appear to occupy. The large size and stark dark/light TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
contrast of the hammer image cause it to advance;
the interior scene, because of its naturalistic depth,

10
PICK COLORS
ON PURPOSE
Don’t just grab some colors from out T
of the air. Know what the colors th
will do when you combine them and, h
more important, what they might u
mean to the audience. Color carries li
an abundance of psychological and o
emotional meaning that can vary th
tremendously between cultural groups s
and even individuals. Color affects o
visual hierarchy, the legibility of type, fi
and how people make connections C
between disparate items (sometimes a
called “color coding”), so choose o
wisely. Never assume that a certain d
color is right for a particular job tr
because of convention either. Blue for M
financial services, for example, is the a
standout color cliché of the past fifty The poster, above, incorporates a symbolic combina-
years. Choose the right colors, not tion of yellow-orange and black (warning), covered
those that are expected. by a rising field of blue to suggest flooding of locales.
The olive oil packaging at right evokes the product’s
Italian origins with references to that country’s green,
red, and white flag.
STEREOTYPE DESIGN / UNITED STATES 
BRUKETA & ZINIC / CROATIA 

12 D ESIG N ELEMEN T S

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 11
LESS COLOR
IS MORE
Color is very exciting but, much like
a circus, too many things happening
at once with hue, value, and intensity
prevents viewers from recognizing
a memorable color idea. Stick to a
simple palette of two or three hues
and create rich relationships among
their attributes as the’re applied to
different elements—by varying their
relative intensities and lightness or
darkness. Find that you need a little
something extra? The unexpected
contrast of an accent color, sparingly
applied, will do the trick. A lot can
be accomplished even by exploiting
the tonal range of black alone; and us-
ing a single dramatic color, rather than
black, is a sure way of making Despite incorporating full-color photographic simple color statement. The designer adds color
a big impact. images, the designer of this brochure spread contrast with a very small volume of yellow
carefully limited the color palette primarily to (violet’s complement) and the warm tones of
a set of closely related, cool greens, blues, and the hand. It’s just enough to prevent the cool
violets. These analogous hues offer apprecia- colors from seeming monotonous without
blly interesting variation in temperature and impairing their immediate color impression.
value while, at the same time, result in a clear, TIEN-MIN LIAO / UNITED STATES

12
MASTER THE DARK
The use of color in this poster is only
about value: shades and tints of a single
hue. In one way of thinking, this poster is
essentiallystill black and white, as there
AND THE LIGHT is no true color relationship to be found—
Tonal value is one of the most (if not for there to be a color relationship, more
the most) powerful tools designers than one hue must be present. Still, the
dramatic-ally luminous and dimensional
have at their disposal. Make sure to qualities of the typographic forms, height-
use a dramatic range of dark and ened through the use of light and dark, is
light; doing so enhances the illusion optically compelling.
of deep space. Furthermore, don’t kill ARIANCE SPANIER DESIGN / GERMANY
the dark/light contrast by evenly
spreading out the tonal range all
over the place. Distribute tone like
firecrackers and the rising Sun:
Concentrate areas of extreme dark
and light; create bright explosions
of luminosity and undercurrents of
darkness. Counter these with subtler
transitions between related values.
Make distinctions in value noticeable
and clear.

13 T W E N T Y R U L E S F OR M A K I N G G OOD D E SI G N

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appear accidental. Men are generally vain—especially Englishmen,
they say.”
“Oh, he is not at all vain, though Hildegarde insists that he is; and
says, too, that he ridicules everybody. She took an inveterate dislike
to him at first sight.”
“Well, that does surprise me, for his appearance is certainly
prepossessing; but I think also he has a tolerably good opinion of
himself: in so far I must agree with her; but why should he not? He
is certainly good-looking, probably clever, and no doubt rich!”
“Oh, he is very clever,” said Crescenz; “even Hildegarde allows
that.”
“Well, my dear, to return; will you introduce him or not?”
“Pray, don’t ask me.”
The Doctor’s wife shrugged her shoulders, shook back her blonde
ringlets, and walked, with an evident attempt at unconcern, across
the room.
“Hildegarde,” she said, tapping the shoulder which had been
purposely turned towards her, “Hildegarde, will you introduce me to
your Englishman? Crescenz says he is very clever; and you know I
like clever people, and foreigners. But you must maneuvre a little,
and not let him know that I particularly requested to make his
acquaintance.”
“I never maneuvre,” replied Hildegarde, bluntly; “you might have
known that by this time.”
“I did not just mean to say maneuvre; I only wished you to
understand that you were to manage it so that he should not think I
cared about the matter; in short, it ought to be a sort of chance
introduction.”
“Will you by chance walk across the room with me?”
“Impossible!”
“Shall I call him over here by chance?”
 “Call—no, not call; but look as if you expected him to come. He
will be sure to understand.”
“He will not; for I do not expect him in the least. Crescenz could
have told you that we are not on particularly good terms. You had
better ask mamma.”
“Mein Gott! What a fuss the people make about this Englishman. I
think you are all afraid of him. Crescenz certainly is.”
“I dislike him; but I am not afraid of him, as you shall see. Mr.
Hamilton,” she called out distinctly, and Hamilton, though surprised,
immediately approached her. Madame Berger shook her hand and
the pocket handkerchief most playfully, and then took refuge on the
sofa at some distance. Hildegarde followed, quietly explaining that
Madame Berger wished to make his acquaintance, because he was a
foreigner, and supposed to be clever. Hamilton smiled as he seated
himself beside his new acquaintance, and in a few minutes they
were evidently amusing each other so much that Crescenz observed
it, and said, in a low voice, to her sister, “You were quite right,
Hildegarde; Lina is a desperate flirt. Do look how she is laughing,
and allowing Mr. Hamilton to admire her dress.”
“He is making a fool of her. Now, Crescenz, if you are not blind,
you can see that expression of his face I have so often described to
you.”
“I only see he is laughing, and pulling the lace of her
handkerchief, which she has just shown him. I dare say he is
admiring it, for it is real cambric, and very fine.”
“He is not admiring it; his own is ten times finer.”
“Indeed! I have never remarked that; how very odd that you
should!”
“Not at all odd,” said Hildegarde quickly; “everyone has some sort
of fancy. You like bracelets and rings, and I like fine pocket
handkerchiefs.”
 “Well, that is the oddest fancy,” said Crescenz, “the very last thing
I should have thought of. I don’t care at all for pocket
handkerchiefs.”
“Nor I for rings or bracelets,” replied Hildegarde.
“Come here, girls,” cried Madame Rosenberg; “what are you doing
with your two heads together there? Come and help me to make
tea. Hildegarde, there is boiling water in the kitchen. Crescenz, you
can cut bread and butter, or arrange the cakes.”
Tea was then a beverage only coming into fashion in Germany,
and, in that class of society where it was still seldom made, the
infusion caused considerable commotion. Hildegarde and her step-
mother were unsuccessful in their attempt; the tea tasted strongly of
smoke and boiled milk. Everybody sipped it, and wondered what was
the matter, while Madame Rosenberg assured her guests that she
had twice made “a tea,” and that it had been excellent; the cook,
Walburg, or, as she was called familiarly, Wally, must have spoiled it
by hurrying the boiling of the water. Mr. Hamilton, as an Englishman,
would, of course, know how to make tea; he really must be so good
as to accompany her to the kitchen, and they would make it over
again.
Hamilton agreed to the proposition with some reluctance, for he
had found his companion amusing; but, as she proposed
accompanying him, he was soon disposed to think tea-making in a
kitchen as amusing as it was new to him. Madame Rosenberg,
Hildegarde, Crescenz, and Major Stultz followed, forming a sort of
procession in the corridor, and greatly crowding the small but
remarkably neat kitchen where they assembled. If it had not been
for the stone floor, it was as comfortable a room as any in the
house; the innumerable brightly shining brass and copper pans and
pots, pudding and pie models, forming the ornaments. Round the
hearth, or rather what is in England called a hot-hearth—for the fire
was invisible—they all stood to watch the boiling of a pan full of
fresh water, which had been placed on one of the apertures made
for that purpose. They looked at the water, and then at each other,
and then again at the water; and then Wally shoved more wood
underneath. Still the water boiled not; and Madame Rosenberg and
Major Stultz returned to the drawing-room, Madame Berger having
undertaken, with Hamilton’s assistance, to make the most excellent
tea possible.
“It is an odd thing,” she observed, seating herself on the polished
copper edge of the hearth, and carefully arranging the folds of her
dress, “it is an odd thing, but nevertheless a fact, that when one
watches, and wishes water to boil, it won’t boil, and as soon as one
turns away it begins to bubble and sputter at once. Now, Mr.
Hamilton, can you explain why this is the case?”
“I don’t know,” said Hamilton, laughing, “excepting that, perhaps,
as the watching of a saucepan full of water is by no means an
amusing occupation, one easily gets tired, and finds that the time
passes unusually slowly.”
“All I can say is—that as long as I look at that water, it will not boil
——”
“Then pray look at me,” said Hamilton, who had seated himself
upon the dresser, one foot on the ground, the other enacting the
part of a pendulum, while in his hands he held a plate of little
macaroni cakes, which Crescenz had just arranged; “pray look at
me. German cakes are decidedly better than English—these are
really delicious.”
“Oh, I am so fond of those cakes,” she cried, springing towards
him, “so excessively fond of them. Surely,” she added, endeavouring
to reach the plate, which he laughingly held just beyond her reach,
“surely you do not mean to devour them alone.”
“You shall join me,” said Hamilton, “on condition that every cake
with a visible piece of citron or a whole almond on it belongs to me.”
“Agreed.”
Her share proved small, and a playful scuffle ensued.
 Crescenz turned towards the window, Hildegarde looked on
contemptuously. At this moment, Walburg exclaimed, “The water
boils!” and they all turned towards the hearth. “How much tea shall I
put into the teapot?” asked Madame Berger, appealing to Hamilton.
“The more you put in the better it will be,” answered Hamilton,
without moving.
“Shall I put in all that is in this paper?”
Hamilton nodded, and the tea was made.
“Ought it not to boil a little now?”
“By no means.”
“Perhaps,” said Walburg, “a little piece of vanilla would improve
the taste.”
“On no account,” said Hamilton.
“The best thing to give it a flavour is rum,” observed Madame
Berger.
“I forbid the rum, though I must say the idea is not bad,” said
Hamilton laughing.
Hildegarde put the teapot on a little tray, and left the kitchen just
as her step-mother entered it.
“Well, the tea ought to be good! It has required long enough to
make it, I am sure!” she observed, while setting down a lamp, which
she had brought with her. “Crescenz, your father, it seems, has
invited a whole lot of people without telling me, and he wishes to
play a rubber of whist in the bedroom. I have no more handsome
candlesticks, so you must light the lamp; the wick is in it, I know, for
I cleaned it myself before I went to Seon, so you have only to put in
the oil and light it.” She took Madame Berger’s arm, saying, “This is
poor amusement for you, standing in the kitchen all the evening,”
and walked away without perceiving Hamilton, who was examining
the construction of the hearth and chimney with an interest which
greatly astonished the cook.
 “Oh, Wally—what shall I do?” cried Crescenz, “I never touched a
lamp in my life, and I am sure I cannot light it.”
“It’s quite easy, Miss Crescenz; I’ll pour the oil, and you light those
pieces of wood and hold them to the wick.”
Crescenz did as she was desired.
“Stop till the oil is in, miss, if you please,” said Wally.
The oil was put in, the wick lighted, the cylinder fixed, and
Crescenz raised the globe towards its place, but either it was too
heavy for her hand, or she had not mentally measured the height,
for it struck with considerable force against the upper part of the
lamp, and broke to pieces with a loud crash.
“Oh, heavens, what shall I do!” she cried in her agitation, clasping
the pieces of glass which had remained in her hand. “What shall I
do! Mamma will be so angry! I dare not tell her—for my life I dare
not. What on earth shall I do!”
“Send out and buy another as fast as you can,” said Hamilton. “Is
there no glass or lamp shop near this?”
“I don’t know,” said Crescenz, blushing deeply.
“Yes, there is,” said Walburg, “in the next street, just round the
corner, you know, Miss Crescenz—but a——” and she stopped and
looked confused.
“I must tell mamma, or get Hildegarde to tell her. Oh, what a
misfortune! what a dreadful misfortune!”
“Go out and buy a globe, and don’t waste time looking at the
fragments,” said Hamilton, impatiently to Walburg. “There is no
necessity for saying anything about the matter.”
“But,” said Walburg, hesitatingly, and looking first at Crescenz, and
then at Hamilton, “but I have no money.”
“Stupid enough my not thinking of that,” said Hamilton, taking out
his purse.
 “That is at least a florin too much,” cried Walburg, enchanted at
his generosity.
“Never mind, run, run; keep what remains for yourself, but make
haste.”
“Oh, indeed I cannot allow this,” said Crescenz faintly; “it would be
very wrong—and——” but the door had already closed on the
messenger.
“Suppose, now—mamma should come,” said Crescenz, uneasily.
“Not at all likely, as everyone is drinking tea.”
The drawing-room door opened, and the gay voices of the
assembled company resounded in the passage.
“I knew it, I knew it; she is coming,” cried Crescenz;—but it was
only Hildegarde, who brought the empty teapot to refill it.
She looked very grave when she heard what had occurred, and
proposed Hamilton’s accompanying her to the drawing-room, as he
might be missed and Major Stultz displeased; he felt that she was
right, and followed silently. His tea was unanimously praised, but
Madame Rosenberg exhibited some natural consternation on hearing
that the whole contents of her paper cornet, with which she had
expected to regale her friends at least half-a-dozen times, had been
inconsiderately emptied at once into the teapot!
“It was no wonder the tea was good! English tea, indeed! Anyone
could make tea after that fashion! But then, to be sure, English
people never thought about what anything cost. For her part she
found the tea bitter, and recommended a spoonful or two of rum.”
On her producing a little green bottle, the company assembled
around her with their tea-cups, and she administered to each one,
two, or three spoonfuls, as they desired it.
In the meantime Mr. Rosenberg sat in the adjoining dark bedroom
at the card-table—sometimes shuffling, sometimes drumming on the
cards, and whistling indistinctly. Hildegarde had observed an
expression of impatience on his face, and, to prevent inquiries about
the lamp, she quietly brought candles from the drawing-room and
placed them beside him.
“Thank you, Hildegarde,” said her father, more loudly than he
generally spoke; “thank you, my dear; you never forget my
existence, and even obey my thoughts sometimes.”
“Why, where’s the lamp?” cried Madame Rosenberg; “where’s the
lamp? What on earth can Crescenz have done with the lamp?”
“Broken it, most probably,” said Mr. Rosenberg, dryly. “Hildegarde,
place a chair for Major Stultz. She’s a good girl, after all, Major! a
very good girl, I can tell you.”
“No doubt, no doubt,” replied the Major, bowing over the proffered
chair.
“Go and see why your sister does not bring the lamp,” cried
Madame Rosenberg impatiently.
As Hildegarde slowly and with evident reluctance walked to the
door, she unconsciously looked towards Hamilton; he was listening
very attentively to the rhapsody of sense and nonsense poured forth
by the Doctor’s wife, who occasionally stopped to shake back, with a
mixture of childishness and coquetry, the long fair locks which at
times half concealed her face. Hamilton, however, saw the look,
understood it, and gazed so fixedly at the door, even after she had
closed it, that his companion observed it, and said abruptly: “Why
did you look so oddly at Hildegarde; and why do you stare at the
door after she has left the room?”
“If you prefer my staring at you, I am quite willing to do so.”
“You know very well I did not mean any such thing,” she cried
with affected pettishness; “can you not be serious for a moment,
and answer a plain question?”
“I dislike answering questions,” said Hamilton absently, and once
more looking towards the door.
 “Now, there you are again with your eyes fixed on that tiresome
——”
He turned around, took a well-stuffed sofa-cushion, and, placing it
before him, leaned his elbows upon it, while he quietly but steadily
fixed his eyes on her face, and said:
“Now, madame, if it must be so, I am ready to be questioned.”
“You really are the most disagreeable person I ever met.”
“That is an observation, and not a question.”
“You are the vainest——”
Hamilton looked down, and seemed determined not to interrupt
her again.
“Are you offended at my candour,” she added, abruptly.
“Not in the least.”
“Put away that cushion, and don’t look as if you were getting
tired.”
“But I thought you were going to question me?”
“No, I am afraid.”
“Well, then I must question you,” said Hamilton, laughing. “Why
may I not look at Mademoiselle Rosenberg, and why may I not look
at the door, if it amuse me?”
“You may not look at the door, because in so doing you turn your
back to me, which is not civil,” she replied readily.
“Very well answered; but now tell me why I may not look at
Mademoiselle Rosenberg?”
“Oh, you may look at her, certainly; but—but—but—the expression
of your face was not as if you disliked her.”
“And why should I dislike her?”
 “I don’t know, indeed—only Crescenz told me that you often
quarrelled with her; and as Hildegarde knows no medium, she most
probably hates you with all her soul. You have no idea of the
intensity of her likings and dislikings!”
“Indeed?”
“At school she took a fancy to one of the governesses, the most
severe, disagreeable person imaginable; can you believe it? This
Mademoiselle Hortense was able to do whatever she pleased with
her; her slightest word was a command to Hildegarde. I have seen
her, when in the greatest passion, grow pale and become perfectly
quiet when Mademoiselle Hortense suddenly came into the room. It
was, however, not from fear, for Hildegarde has no idea of fearing
anybody; she is terribly courageous!”
“Altogether rather an interesting character,” observed Hamilton.
“Do you think so? I cannot agree with you. At school we all liked
Crescenz much better.”
“Very possibly—I can imagine your liking the one and admiring the
other.”
“As to the admiration,” said Madame Berger, looking down—“as to
the admiration of the girls at school, that was very much divided:
Hildegarde headed one party and I the other.”
“You were rivals, then?”
“We were, in everything—even in the affection of her sister. It was
through Crescenz alone that I was able to tease her when I chose to
do so.”
“But you did not often choose it, I am sure.”
“Oh, I assure you, with all her love for Crescenz, she often
tyrannised over the poor girl, and scarcely allowed her to have an
opinion of her own on any subject. Crescenz was a little afraid of
her, too, at times. Cressy is the dearest creature in the world, but
not at all brilliant; we all loved her, but we sometimes laughed at
her, too; and you can form no conception of the fury of Hildegarde
when she used to find it out. Crescenz has confessed to me, when
we were alone, that her sister had often lectured her on her
simplicity, and had told her what she was to do and say when we
attempted to joke with her. Nothing more comical than seeing
Crescenz playing Hildegarde.”
“Mademoiselle Rosenberg was considered clever?” asked
Hamilton.
“Clever! why yes—as far as learning was concerned she was the
best in the school, and that was the reason that madame and the
governess overlooked her violence of temper; she is very ill-
tempered.”
“That is a pity,” said Hamilton, “for she seems to have excellent
qualities.”
“I never could discover anything excellent about her,” said
Madame Berger, biting her lip slightly.
“Perhaps,” observed Hamilton, “she is more violent than ill
tempered; and you say that she can control herself in the presence
of anyone she likes.”
“But it is exactly these likings and dislikings that I find so
abominable; for instance, she loves her father—well, he is a very
good-looking, quiet sort of insipid man—she, however, thinks him
perfection, and is outrageous if people do not show an absurd
respect for all his opinions. What he says must be law for all the
world! On the other hand, she dislikes her step-mother; who is
nothing very extraordinary, I allow—rather vulgar, too; but still she
has her good qualities. Hildegarde cannot see them, and will not
allow Crescenz to become aware of them either! Is not this
detestable?”
“It is a proof that she has strong prejudices; but——”
The door just then was opened, and Crescenz entered the room,
carrying the lamp, and smiling brightly. It was heavy, and Hamilton
rose to assist her in placing it on the table before the sofa where
they sat.
“Thank you, oh, thank you!” cried Crescenz, with a fervency which
Madame Berger thought so exaggerated that she found it necessary
to explain.
“That dear girl is so grateful for the most trifling attention! It is
generally the case with us all for a short time after we leave school.”
“There’s the lamp!” exclaimed Madame Rosenberg, “and not
broken! What do you say now, Rosenberg? I declare it burns better
than usual;—the globe has been cleaned, eh, Crescenz?”
“Yes, Wally cleaned it a little; it was very dusty,” replied Crescenz,
looking archly at Hamilton, and seeming to enjoy the equivocation.
Hildegarde blushed deeply, and walked into the next room.
Hamilton saw the blush, and looked after her, while Madame
Berger whispered:
“Did you see that?—she is jealous of the praise bestowed on her
sister.”
“Jealous! oh, no!” said Hamilton, still following her with his eyes.
“I beg your pardon!” cried Madame Berger; “I was not at all aware
that I was speaking to an adorer; I really must go and tell her the
conquest she has made.”
Perhaps she expected him to detain her, or she feared a rebuff
from Hildegarde; for she waited a moment before she proceeded
into the next room. Hamilton followed just in time to hear Hildegarde
say:
“Pshaw! you are talking about what you don’t understand,” as she
turned contemptuously away.
Madame Berger, to conceal her annoyance at Hildegarde’s
imperturbability, turned to Crescenz, who had been placed next
Major Stultz, at his particular request, in order to bring him luck. Her
presence, however, not having produced the desired effect, he was
told by Madame Rosenberg that those who were fortunate in love
were always sure to be unfortunate at cards, which seemed to afford
him great consolation; while Crescenz smiled and played with his
counters and purse.
“I am sure, Crescenz,” said Madame Berger, “I am sure you are
thinking what sort of purse you will make for Major Stultz this
Christmas! You cannot allow him in future to use leather. I can teach
you to make a new kind of purse, which is very strong and pretty.”
“Oh, pray do!” cried Crescenz, starting up; “you know I like
making purses, of all things. When will you begin it for me?”
“To-morrow, if you like. I say, Cressy,” continued Madame Berger,
in a whisper, “what makes Hildegarde so horribly savage this
evening?”
“I did not observe it.”
“She is most particularly disagreeable, I can assure you. I
attempted some most innocent badinage about Mr. Hamilton, and
she——”
“Oh, about him you must not jest; she hates him so excessively
——”
“Not a bit of it—and he does not hate her either.”
“You don’t say so?”
“I say so, and think so; and you will see that I am right. Why, he
already makes as many excuses as your father for her ill-temper. If
you had only heard him!”
“I did not think Hildegarde capable of playing double,” cried
Crescenz, with emotion.
“She is capable of anything. Had you but seen the look of
intelligence that passed between them when she left the room to
inquire about you, and the lamp, it would have convinced you at
once. And then he watched the door, and——”
 “Ah, yes!” exclaimed Crescenz, apparently greatly relieved; “I
understand. No, Lina, this time I am right, and you are wrong, I
know why he looked at Hildegarde, and at the door.”
“You do!—do you? Then, come and tell me all about it. By-the-by,
I should like to have a long talk with you, to learn how matters
stand. This Mr. Hamilton is uncommonly good-looking and amusing;
I should like to know what brought him to Seon, and how it
happened that he came to live with your mother, and all that. If we
have not time to-night, you can tell me to-morrow, while you are
learning the purse-stitch.”
An appointment was made for the next day, and the party soon
after broke up.
 CHAPTER XII.

DOMESTIC DETAILS.

Hamilton had gone out early to visit Zedwitz, and look at a horse
recommended by Major Stultz. On his return, when walking towards
his room, he heard some one singing so gayly in the kitchen that, as
he passed the door, he could not resist the temptation to look in.
Crescenz was standing opposite the hearth, a long-handled wooden
spoon in her hand, her sleeves tucked up, and her round, white
arms embellished with streaks of smut and flour; while a linen
apron, of large dimensions, preserved the greater part of her dress
from injury. Her face was flushed, partly from heat, but more from
pleasure. As soon as she perceived Hamilton in the doorway, she at
once ceased singing, laughed merrily, and invited him to enter. Now
to this kitchen Hamilton had taken rather a fancy; he thought it by
many degrees the best furnished room in the house; in fact, it was a
pretty and cheerful apartment, and kept with a neatness common in
Germany, where it is usual to see the female members of the
burghers’ families employed in culinary offices.
“I have got my first lesson in cookery to-day,” she exclaimed
joyfully; “and I have assisted mamma to make a tart, and you see I
am cooking these vegetables,” she added, plunging her wooden
spoon into one of the pots.
“Oh, yes, miss,” cried the cook, “that’s the soup, and the noodles
will be all squashed if you work them up after that fashion.”
 “Well, this is the sauer-kraut,” she said, eagerly drawing one of the
saucepans towards her; “this is the sauer-kraut.”
“I could have told you that myself,” cried Hamilton, laughing; “the
smell is too odious to admit of a doubt.”
“But the taste is very good,” said Crescenz.
“I cannot agree with you; taste and smell are horrible in the
extreme.”
“I never heard of anyone who did not like sauer-kraut,” said
Crescenz, with some surprise; “do people never make it in England?”
“I never saw it, excepting at the house of a friend who had been
long ambassador at one of the German courts, and then it was
handed about as a sort of curiosity.”
“How odd! England seems to be altogether different from
Germany?” she half asked, while shaking her head inquiringly.
“The difference is in many things besides the eating or not eating
of sauer-kraut,” answered Hamilton; “but as you are such a famous
cook, I must beg you to give me something else to-day, for I cannot
eat your kraut.”
“Oh, yes!” cried Crescenz delightedly; “Wally, what shall we cook
for Mr. Hamilton? I am sure I never thought I should have liked this
cooking so much!” As she spoke, she with difficulty repressed an
inclination to dance about the kitchen.
“Indeed, as you are learning it, Miss Crescenz,” said Walburg, “it
must be very agreeable. To think that you will so soon have a house
of your own, and a rich husband who will let you have everything
you like to cook. Tarts and creams every day. The Major knows
what’s good, or I am greatly mistaken.”
This speech completely sobered Crescenz; had Hamilton not been
present she might have been loquacious; but she now looked
confused, and turned to leave the kitchen, saying it was time to
wash her hands for dinner.
 “But I thought you were going to find me a substitute for the
sauer-kraut.”
“Wally will send in something,” she answered, rubbing her arm
with her apron to avoid looking up as she walked into the passage.
Hamilton was so near to her as she entered her room that a feeling
of politeness prevented her from shutting the door, and he saw
Hildegarde sitting at a small deal table between her brothers Fritz
and Gustle; a few books and a slate were before her, and as the
door opened she was returning a book to the former, with the
remark, “This will never do, Fritz. You have not learned one word of
your lesson!”
“Kreuz! Himmel! Saperment!” exclaimed Fritz, pitching the book
up to the ceiling; “this is exactly too much! when a fellow has been
all the morning at school, and comes home for an hour or so to eat
and amuse himself, to be set down in this way to learn French. I tell
you what, Hildegarde, I shall begin to hate the sight of you if you
plague me with these old grammars.”
“What shall I do with him?” asked Hildegarde, appealing to her
sister.
“Fritz, learn your lesson—there’s a love!” interposed Crescenz;
“see what a good boy Gustle is!” and she carelessly placed her hand
on the shoulder of the latter, who was industriously rolling the leaf of
his book into the form of a trumpet, and yawning tremendously.
“I will give up all idea of ever entering the cadet corps, or ever
being an officer,” cried Fritz, kicking the book as it lay upon the
ground, “rather than write these odious exercises and listen to
Hildegarde’s long explanations.”
“But think of the sword and the uniform, Fritz,” said Crescenz,
coaxingly.
“Donner und Doria!—what is the use of a sword and uniform,
when I must learn vocabulary and write French exercises?”
 “Come, Fritz,” cried Hildegarde, authoritatively, “let me hear no
more of this absurd swearing; it does not at all become a boy of
your age. If you will not learn your lesson, I can, at least, correct
your exercise.”
She stretched out her hand for the slate. Fritz anticipated her,
seized and flung it up in the air, as he had done the grammar; but it
did not fall so harmlessly. Hamilton, who had been standing at the
open door, rushed forward, but was too late to prevent its
descending with considerable force upon her temple, where it made
a wound, from which the blood instantly began to trickle in large
dark drops. Hildegarde started up angrily, while Fritz, after the first
moment of dismay had passed, ran towards her, and throwing his
arms round her, exclaimed, “Forgive me, forgive me—indeed I did
not intend to hurt you.”
“If papa has come home from his bureau,” said Crescenz,
preparing to leave the room, “I’ll go this moment and tell him.”
“Stay,” cried Hildegarde, hastily; “he says he did not do it on
purpose; and after all, I am not much hurt. You must not tell papa
or mamma either.”
“Well, you certainly are the best fellow in the world, Hildegarde,”
cried Fritz. “I declare I would rather be cuffed by you than kissed by
Crescenz.”
“And cuffed you would have been, had you been near enough,”
said Hildegarde, laughing, while she poured some water into a basin.
“Mamma will be sure to see the cut, and ask how it happened,”
said Crescenz.
“I can easily hide it under my hair when it has stopped bleeding.”
“Now just for that, Hildegarde,” cried Fritz, “I promise to learn as
many lessons as you please for the next fortnight.”
Madame Rosenberg’s step and the jingling of her keys alarmed
them all. Hamilton turned to meet her in the passage, saying, “Can I
speak to you for five minutes?”
 “To be sure you can, and longer, if you like,” she replied, hooking
her keys into the string of her apron. “Just let me look how things
are going on in the kitchen, and I am at your service as long as you
please. Put a cover on that pot, Walburg, and tell Miss Crescenz not
to forget the powdered sugar for the tart, and the apples for the
boys’ luncheon. And now,” she said, turning to Hamilton, and leading
the way to her room, “what have you got to say? You look so serious
that I suspect you are going to tell me that you dislike your rooms,
as they look into a back street, and are near a coppersmith’s.
Captain Black left me for that reason, although I told him he could
look out of the drawing-room windows as much as he pleased, and
receive all his visitors there. I could not make the coppersmith leave
his shop, you know; though this much I must say, that in winter the
nuisance is less felt than in summer, when the workmen, during the
fine weather, hammer away all day in the lane, but in winter they
work in the house, and shut the doors, so that they are scarcely
heard at all.”
“I have slept too soundly to hear the coppersmiths,” said
Hamilton, smiling; “and during the day I have been too seldom in
my room to be disturbed by them. In fact, I find so much to amuse
—I mean to say, so much to interest me as a foreigner in your
house, that I do not think half a dozen smiths could induce me to
leave you at present.”
“I am glad to hear it, for I like you very much, and so does
Rosenberg.”
“Then I hope you will not be offended if I request to have wax
candles in my room, and—a—fresh napkin every day,” said Hamilton,
with some embarrassment.
“This can easily be managed,” said Madame Rosenberg. “Neither
Mr. Smith nor Captain Black ever asked for wax candles; but I
suppose you have been brought up expensively. Now, don’t you
think spermaceti candles would do just as well for a young man of
your age—such candles as you may have seen in my silver
candlesticks for company? Of course, I only mention this on your
account.”
“You are very kind. I shall be quite satisfied with spermaceti—but I
have still something to request.”
“I can save you the trouble,” said Madame Rosenberg, interrupting
him. “You are not satisfied with your dinner, and wish to go to a
table d’hôte.”
“By no means!” cried Hamilton, eagerly. “There you wrong me. I
do not in the least care what I eat.”
“But, indeed,” said Madame Rosenberg, “I don’t think it would be
a bad plan were you to do so, after all, for you see the girls must
learn to cook, and things will be spoiled sometimes. It is quite
enough to have Rosenberg discontented, without——”
“Oh, I promise never to be discontented,” said Hamilton, laughing
good-humouredly. “You have no idea how indifferent I am on this
subject.”
“I must say, Crescenz seems to have great taste for cookery,”
observed Madame Rosenberg, complaisantly; “very great taste
indeed; but I rather expect to find that Hildegarde has no talent that
way. I suspect we shall often have burned cakes and spoiled
pudding when her turn comes. But you were going to say something
else, I believe.”
“I was going to say, that I have been looking at horses this
morning which I feel greatly disposed to purchase, if I were sure of
finding a stable near this, and a respectable groom.”
“Why, how lucky!” cried Madame Rosenberg. “There is now
actually a stable to let in this house; the new first floors don’t keep
horses, so you can have it all to yourself; and old Hans asked me
only yesterday if I could not recommend his son to some one who
wanted a groom or coachman! I will go down with you at once, and
look at the stable, and you can speak to old Hans about his son.”
 The arrangements were soon completed, and as they ascended
the stairs together, they met two very well-dressed women, who
bowed civilly, but distantly to Madame Rosenberg. When they had
passed, she observed to Hamilton—
“The new lodgers for the first floor; they come on the 29th of this
month, and have been looking at their apartments, which are being
papered and painted. On the second floor we shall find our landlord,
who has the warehouse below stairs, as he has six or eight children,
and they make a tremendous noise; I am better pleased to live
above than below them, though it is not so noble.”
After dinner, Hamilton, finding himself alone with Crescenz in the
drawing-room, insisted on her giving him a lesson in German
waltzing; she had just completed her instructions, and they were
whirling around the room for the first time when the door was
opened, and Hildegarde, having looked in, closed it again without
speaking.
“There, now!” cried Crescenz, walking with a look of great
vexation towards the open window; “was there ever anything so
provoking! and after our explanation last night, too, but she really
requires too much!”
“What does she require?” asked Hamilton, taking possession of
the other half of the window, and leaning on one of the cushions,
which, as usual in Germany, were conveniently placed for the elbows
of those who habitually gazed into the street. “What does she
require?”
“That I should never, for one moment, forget that I have promised
to marry Major Stultz. I know quite well that she disapproves of my
having danced with you.”
“And if you were to go to a ball now, would you not be at liberty
to dance with whomsoever you pleased?”
“Oh, of course.”
“Then, why not with me?”
 “Oh, because—because—she knows that—I—that you—”
“In fact,” said Hamilton, “you have told her of my inexcusable
conduct the day we were on the alp.”
“No,” replied Crescenz, blushing deeply, “I have only told her that
you cannot marry without your father’s consent—that the younger
sons of English people cannot marry—just what you told me
yourself.”
“The recollection of that day will cause me regret as long as I
live,” said Hamilton, blushing in his turn; “thoughtless words on such
a subject are quite unpardonable. I hope you have forgotten all I
said!”
“I cannot forget,” said Crescenz, looking intently into the street to
hide her emotion—“I cannot forget—it was the first time I had ever
heard anything of that kind, and was so exactly what I had imagined
in every respect.”
Hamilton bit his lip, and replied gravely: “It was the novelty alone
which gave importance to my words; I am convinced, had you
considered for a moment, you would have laughed at me as I
deserved. Major Stultz must often have said——”
“Major Stultz,” said Crescenz, contemptuously, “never speaks of
anything but how comfortably we shall live together, and what we
shall have for dinner, and how many servants we shall be able to
keep, and all those sorts of things, which make it impossible to
forget one year of his age, or one bit of his ugliness.”
“He is a very good-natured man,” said Hamilton, “and Zedwitz told
me, has been a very distinguished officer.”
“You are just beginning to talk like Hildegarde,” cried Crescenz,
impatiently, “and from you, who are the cause of my unhappiness, I
will not bear it.”
“The cause of your unhappiness!” repeated Hamilton, slowly; “if I
really could believe that possible, nothing would induce me to
remain an hour longer in this house.”
 “Oh, no,” cried Crescenz, hastily, “no! I did not mean what I said.
Oh, no! you must have seen that I am not unhappy! I—I—am very
happy,” and she burst into tears as she spoke.
“Well, this is a punishment for thoughtlessness!”—exclaimed
Hamilton, starting from his place at the window, and striding up and
down the room. “Surely, surely, such vague expressions as mine
were did not deserve such a serious construction!”
“Vague expressions,” repeated Crescenz, looking up through her
tears—“serious construction? Did you not mean what you said?”
“By heaven! I don’t know what I said, or what I meant,” cried
Hamilton, vehemently.
Crescenz’s sobs became frightfully audible.
“Crescenz—forgive me,” he said hastily; “once more I ask your
pardon, and entreat of you to forget my folly. Let this subject never
again be mentioned, if you would not make me hate myself.”
“But,” sobbed Crescenz, “but tell me, at least, that you were not,
as Hildegarde said, making a fool of me. Tell me, oh, tell me, that
you love me, and I am satisfied.”
“You—you do not know what you are saying,” cried Hamilton,
involuntarily smiling at her extreme simplicity. “You are asking me to
repeat a transgression which I most heartily repent. Situated as you
are, such a confession on my part, now deliberately made, would be
little less than—a crime.”
“You mean because I am betrothed!”
He was spared an answer by Hildegarde’s entrance with a small
tray and coffee-cups. It was in vain that Crescenz turned to the
window to conceal her tears; Hildegarde saw them, and, turning
angrily to Hamilton, exclaimed:
“This is most unjustifiable conduct—dishonourable——”
“Oh, stop! Hildegarde!” cried Crescenz, beseechingly: “Pray stop!
You are, as usual, doing him injustice, and misunderstanding him
altogether.”
“Do not attempt a justification,” cried Hamilton, impatiently; “she
will not believe you. And,” he added in a whisper, “in fact, I do not
deserve it.”
Walburg interrupted them by half opening the door, and informing
them mysteriously, that an officer was without who had asked for Mr.
Hamilton.
“Show him into my sitting-room, and say I shall be with him in a
moment.”
“My visit is only partly intended for you, Hamilton,” said Zedwitz,
entering the room. “I wish also to pay my respects to Madame
Rosenberg.”
He had scarcely time to glance towards Hildegarde before she left
the room, followed by her sister.
“The young ladies are not particularly civil to you,” observed
Hamilton, seating himself on the sofa.
“Why, you did not expect them to remain here with us, did you?”
“To be sure I did.”
“I did not, but I expect them to return with their mother.”
Crescenz did. Hildegarde did not. And in consequence Zedwitz’s
visit to Madame Rosenberg was very short, and he soon adjourned
to Hamilton’s room.
“Why, what’s this?” cried Madame Rosenberg, peeping into the
coffee-pot. “I do declare, Mr. Hamilton has forgotten to drink his
coffee!”
“Let me take it to him,” said Crescenz, advancing towards the
table.
“You will do no such thing,” said her step-mother, waving her
hastily back. “No such thing—and I think—that is, the Major—but it
is not necessary to explain. Call Hildegarde.”
 Hildegarde came and was desired to carry the tray to Hamilton’s
room.
“May I not send Walburg?”
“You may not, because I have sent her on an errand, and the
coffee is too cold to be kept waiting until her return, now that the
fire is out in the kitchen.”
“But—but——” hesitated Hildegarde, “Mr. Hamilton is not alone.”
“Count Zedwitz is in his room, but he won’t bite you, so go at
once, and don’t be disobliging.”
Half an hour afterwards Hamilton was in the corridor, looking for
his cane, which the children had mislaid. He turned into the nursery,
and while rummaging there, Madame Rosenberg joined him, and
hoped he had not found his coffee too cold.
“Coffee! no—yes! When, where did I drink it?”
“In your own room,” replied Madame Rosenberg, laughing. “Your
memory must be very short; I sent it to you by Hildegarde, about
half an hour ago.”
He looked inquiringly towards Hildegarde. She raised her eyes
slowly from her work, and looking at him steadily and gravely, said
in French:
“I threw it out of the window rather than take it to you.”
“Next time I advise you to drink it,” said Hamilton, laughing, as he
left the room with Zedwitz. While descending the stairs, he
observed:
“Well, that is the oddest girl I ever met—perfectly original. You
have no idea how she amuses and interests me.”
“I can easily imagine it,” said Zedwitz, dryly.
“But you can not imagine how intensely she hates me.”
“That was what you desired, if I remember rightly; and for your
sake I hope you continue as indifferent as formerly.”
 “Not exactly; I believe I rather feel inclined to like her unpolished
sincerity and straightforward vehemence; she really would be
charming sometimes, if she were a little less quarrelsome.”
“I never found her quarrelsome,” said Zedwitz.
“Of course not, when you were enacting the part of adorer. That
makes all the difference in the world! But what are you looking at?”
asked Hamilton, seeing his companion stop short at the street-door.
“I see nothing but a couple of officers lounging about the windows
of that brazier’s shop opposite, which cannot contain anything
particularly interesting, I should think.”
“Did you think they were admiring the coffee-pots and
candlesticks?” asked Zedwitz. “That’s only a feint—I saw them
looking up at the Rosenberg windows. It is a regular window parade,
and they have been here nearly an hour; for I saw them in the
street, as I entered the house. Let us cross over and see whether it
be intended for Hildegarde, or Crescenz.”
They crossed the street, looked up, and saw Madame Berger
sitting at the window, teaching Crescenz the promised pretty and
strong purse-stitch. Although the latter appeared extremely intent on
her work, she was evidently aware of what was passing in the
street, for, as Zedwitz and Hamilton saluted, she bowed and blushed
deeply.
“She, at least, has not yet learned to play unconscious,” observed
Zedwitz, laughing; “Madame Berger can give her some instruction.”
“Do you know Madame Berger?” asked Hamilton.
“Of course; her husband is our physician. She is very pretty, and
the greatest coquette in Christendom. I say, Raimund, what are you
admiring in that shop?” said Zedwitz, stopping suddenly opposite the
brazier’s and addressing one of the officers.
“The kitchen utensils, Max! I shall soon be obliged to purchase
such things, and they have a kind of mysterious interest for me
now.”
 “You don’t mean to say that you are going to keep house—going
to be married?”
“My father says so, which is much more to the purpose,” replied
Raimund.
“And who is the happy woman destined to make you a respectable
member of society?”
“They tell me she lives in that house,” replied Raimund, pointing to
the one they had just left.
“The third story?” asked Zedwitz, quickly.
“No, Max, for a wife I do not look so high,” replied the other,
ironically.
“And when may I offer my congratulations?”
“Not just now, if you please, for, as I have never yet spoken to the
lady, something might occur to prevent the thing; but I have very
nearly made up my mind.”
Zedwitz laughed and walked on with Hamilton. “I hope he has told
the truth,” he said, musingly; “I hope he has told the truth, for I
should be very sorry if he made his way into the Rosenberg family.
He is very clever, but a great reprobate; has already seduced two
girls of respectable connections, and is not ashamed to boast of his
success.”
“Were there no fathers, no brothers, no cousins, to compel him to
make reparation?” asked Hamilton.
“As it happened, there were none,” replied Zedwitz; “but even if
there had been, he has not the caution-money, and could not marry.
If he were serious just now, I suppose his father has discovered
some rich partie for him, and that he will succeed, I do not for a
moment doubt. He pretends to have a regular system of seduction,
which consists in several gradations of improper books—it is
disgusting to hear him descant on the subject.”
 “But he will carefully avoid anything of that kind with his future
wife?” said Hamilton.
“I was not thinking of his wife, for I do not know her; I fear for
the Rosenbergs—Hildegarde would be sure to attract him.”
“He would, however, have no chance of success in that quarter, I
am sure,” said Hamilton.
“It is hard to say; her nature is passionate, and I should be sorry
to see her an object of attention to such a man. The fact is, I find it
impossible to forget her, and as long as I know her to be free, I
cannot cease to indulge hopes that she may eventually be mine.
What I most apprehend is a sudden and violent passion on her part
for some person as yet, perhaps, unknown; for I believe her capable
of loving desperately.”
“And you very naturally wish to be the object of this desperate
love? But how are you to obtain your father’s consent to your
union?”
“Of that I have no hope whatever; but as I am an only son, I have
every chance of pardon were I once married. My mother’s opposition
is much less violent, but quite as determined as my father’s, and the
astonishment of both was indescribable when I confessed that I had
been refused without explanation or chance of recall. All my hopes
are now centred in my sister, who is a dear, good little soul, and has
promised to assist me when she can. By-the-by, she made a remark
which may, perhaps, interest you.” Zedwitz stopped and looked very
hard at Hamilton.
“Pray let me hear it.”
“She said she was sure I should not have spoken in vain had not
Hildegarde loved another——”
“Well, that was your own modest idea, was it not?” said Hamilton,
interrupting him.
“Yes; but it was not my idea that you were the object of her
preference.”
 Hamilton laughed.
“Perhaps you are already aware of it?” asked Zedwitz, growing
very red.
“No, indeed,” replied Hamilton, trying to look serious, “I am only
amused at your sister’s strong imagination; were she, however, to
see us together, and hear us speak, she would soon think
differently.”
“You forget that my sister was at Seon, and had opportunities of
making observations.”
“But she is not aware how desperately we quarrel; she does not
know——”
“I have told her all that, and she insists that Hildegarde likes you
without being herself conscious of it.”
“But I assure you she has told me more than once that she hates
me.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Zedwitz, dryly, and immediately after
he changed the subject.
This conversation, notwithstanding the little impression it had
apparently made on Hamilton, took complete possession of his
thoughts, as he walked home late in the evening. However
incredulous he might at first have felt, the idea was too flattering to
his vanity to be lightly abandoned; and no sooner had he admitted
the possibility, than it became probability: nay, almost certainty. It is
extraordinary what a revolution these reflections made in his
feelings. Hildegarde was so remarkably handsome that he had been
compelled to admire her person; her odd decided manners had
always amused him; but now that he imagined himself so much the
object of her preference as to cause her to refuse the addresses of
Zedwitz, his admiration began to verge towards love; and the
manners which had before caused him amusement became the
subject of deep interest, as affording a key to the mind which, with
secret satisfaction, he felt he had always considered of no common
stamp. Pleased with himself, and unconsciously prepared to be more
than pleased with the subject of his thoughts, he bounded up stairs,
rang the bell, and was admitted by Hildegarde herself.
“Mr. Hamilton,” she said, with some embarrassment, “I wish to
speak to you alone for a few minutes, if you are at leisure.”
“I am quite at leisure,” replied Hamilton, following her towards the
drawing-room. She walked directly to the window, and desired him
so haughtily to “shut the door,” that he felt half inclined to be angry.
After waiting some time in vain expectation that she would begin the
conversation, he observed, with some pique at her apparent
imperturbability—
“To what extraordinary event, or to what singular good fortune,
am I indebted for this interview, mademoiselle?”
No sooner had he spoken than he perceived that her composure
had been forced, that she was in fact struggling with contending
emotions, and quite unable to utter a word. After some delay, she at
last began in a constrained voice—
“Believe me, Mr. Hamilton, that nothing but my affection for my
sister could have induced me to trespass on your time, or,” she
added more naturally, “subject myself to your sneers.”
Hamilton remained silent, and she again commenced with evident
effort. “You are aware that my sister’s feelings towards you are more
favourable than——”
“Than yours?” he asked, interrupting her.
“I have not requested this interview to speak of my own feelings,”
she answered, sternly and turning pale. “I wish to point out to you
how ungenerous, how cruel your conduct has been to my gentle,
confiding sister. You know the influence you have acquired over her
—you are aware that she is on the eve of marriage with another, and
that other person she has yet to learn to love; instead of pointing
out to her any estimable qualities he may possess in order to
reconcile her to her fate, you turn him on all occasions into ridicule,
and—and—not content with changing her indifference for her future
husband into positive dislike, you take every opportunity of paying
her attentions, which, knowing the state of her feelings towards you,
is a refinement of cruelty that you must acknowledge to be
unpardonable.”
“You speak like a book, mademoiselle! Your affection for your
sister makes you absolutely eloquent! but would it not have been
better had you consented to marry Major Stultz, and so saved your
gentle, confiding sister from this unwished-for connection? You
would, no doubt, easily have learned to love him and esteem any
amiable qualities he may possess!” He spoke calmly and ironically;
but the idea of the beautiful creature before him, as the wife of
Major Stultz, inflicted a pang of jealousy which sufficiently punished
him for his impertinence. Hildegarde was perfectly unconscious of
the feelings of her tormentor; he had intended to have irritated her,
for her self-possession wounded his vanity, while her too evident
dislike cut him to the quick. He failed, however, for the first time,
and most completely; either her affection for her sister, or the
consciousness of right, prevented her from exhibiting even
impatience when she again spoke.
“You seem to have forgotten that Major Stultz’s proposal to me
was made after a two-days’ acquaintance. I refused him because I
did not like him, and I knew it could give no pain to a man whose
mere object was to have a wife to manage his household concerns.
It never occurred to me that he would turn, half an hour afterward,
to my sister, and that my vehemence would only serve to make him
more cautious, and her fate more certain. You know he applied to
my step-mother, and wrote to my father. The answer was a letter,
full of reproaches to me, and of entreaties and commendations to
Crescenz, which, to her yielding nature, were irresistible; and I do
believe, if given time, and were you not here, she might be
reconciled to her lot. However little Major Stultz may have cared for
Crescenz at first, it is impossible for him to remain long indifferent to
so much goodness. I think he already begins to be sincerely
attached to her; in time, gratitude and habit will enable her to return
his affection, and they may, eventually, be very happy. At all events,
my sister’s fate is now irrevocable.”
She paused for a moment, and then added: “Oh, Mr. Hamilton, be
generous! Spare her! Leave Munich—or, at least, leave our house
——”
“You require a great and most unnecessary sacrifice on my part,
mademoiselle. Suppose I were able to convince you that my absence
is unnecessary?”
“You cannot do so,” replied Hildegarde, with a slightly impatient
gesture.
“I have listened to you with patience and expect in my turn to be
heard,” said Hamilton, handing her a chair, which, however, she
indignantly refused.
“Your sister has most probably told you——” he began.
“My sister has told me nothing,” cried Hildegarde, interrupting him
angrily, “excepting that you said you could not marry, or even think
of marriage! The conversation which preceded such a declaration I
can imagine!”
“Indeed! It seems you have had experience in these matters.”
Hildegarde bit her lip and tapped with her foot on the floor, while
Hamilton smiled provokingly, and watched her varying colour.
“Ungenerous, unfeeling Englishman!” she cried at length; “I—I see
you are trying to put me into a passion—but I am not angry, not in
the least, I assure you,” she said, seating herself on the chair he had
before placed for her. “You said,” she added in a constrained voice,
“you said you were able to convince me——”
“You have convinced me that you are a consummate actress!”
cried Hamilton, contemptuously.
“I am no actress!” she exclaimed, starting from her chair with such
violence that it fell to the ground with a loud crash. “I am no
actress! For Crescenz’s sake, I have endeavoured to be calm, in the
hope of making some impression on you, but you are even more
thoroughly selfish than I imagined. This is the last time I shall ever
speak to you!”
“Don’t make rash vows,” said Hamilton, coolly. “I dare say you will
often speak to me in time—perhaps condescend to like me!”
“Never! I do not think there exists a more unamiable being in the
world than you are! I now see you are determined not to leave our
house, and only wonder I could have been such a fool as to expect
you to act honourably.”
Hamilton turned to the window to hide his rising colour.
“You are vindictive, too,” she continued, “cruelly vindictive. It is
because you dislike me; it is in order to make me unhappy that you
trifle with my sister’s feelings. You do not, you cannot love her. She
is not at all a person likely to interest a man such as you are!”
“When did you discover that?” asked Hamilton, turning suddenly
round.
“No matter,” she replied, moving towards the door, somewhat
surprised at the effect her words had produced on him. “No matter;
I now see that these conferences and quarrels are worse than
useless, and——”
“I agree with you,” said Hamilton, quickly, “and am most willing to
sign a treaty of peace, on reasonable terms. Suppose I promise
never by word or deed to disparage Major Stultz in future, and
totally to abstain from all further attentions to you sister?”
“That—is—better—than—nothing,” said Hildegarde, slowly, “and as
I am acting for the benefit of another, I ought not to refuse a
compromise. If you promise,” she added, hesitatingly, “I—I think I
may trust you.”
“And are you satisfied without my leaving the house?”
“I suppose I must be,” she replied, stooping to raise the chair she
had thrown down; Hamilton moved it from her, and leaning on the
back of it, asked if he might not now hope, in case he
conscientiously performed his promises, that she would in future be
at least commonly civil to him.
“You have advised me to make no rash vows,” said Hildegarde.
“The wisest thing we could both do would be never to look at or
speak to each other again.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Hamilton, gravely, “but such wisdom
is too great for me——”
She left the room while he was speaking, without even looking at
him.
“Zedwitz and his sister were totally mistaken,” thought Hamilton,
“but I am determined, since they have put it into my head, to make
her like me!”