The Doctor had gone home.
Herr Mack showed me the design of his new lamps--the first paraffin
lamps to be seen so far north. They were splendid things, with a heavy
leaden base, and he lit them himself every evening--to prevent any
accident. He spoke once or twice of his grandfather, the Consul.
"This brooch was given to my grandfather, Consul Mack, by Carl Johan
with his own hands," he said, pointing one finger at the diamond in his
shirt. His wife was dead; he showed me a painted portrait of her in one
of the other rooms--a distinguished looking woman with a lace cap and a
winsome smile. In the same room, also, there was a bookcase, and some
old French books, no less, that might have been an heirloom. The
bindings were rich and gilded, and many owners had marked their names in
them. Among the books were several educational works; Herr Mack was a
man of some intelligence.
His two assistants from the store were called in to make up the party at
whist. They played slowly and doubtfully, counted carefully, and made
mistakes all the same. Edwarda helped one of them with his hand.
I upset my glass, and felt ashamed, and stood up.
"There--I have upset my glass," I said.
Edwarda burst out laughing, and answered:
"Well, we can see that."
Everyone assured me laughingly that it did not matter.
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