to ring for a glass for herself. Wanda insisted; he
seized her by the wrists.

"But Wanda!" Sofie repeated, reprovingly, languidly, drawing her hand
over her forehead and laying down her brush.

Wanda laughed gaily:

"But Wanda!" she mimicked.

And they all laughed at Sofie, including Sofie herself:

"Did I speak like that?" she asked, with her languid voice. "I don't
know: I get so sleepy here, so lazy...."

They were all making fun of Sofie, when voices sounded from the hall,
shrill, old voices. It was the two dowagers, with Othomar; the old
ladies were talking in a courtly, mincing way to the young prince, who
brought them chairs. The aunts had had a siesta after lunch; they now
made their reappearance, with tapestrywork in large reticules. All
greeted them with great respect, beneath which lurked a spark of
mischief.

"_Pardon, lieber Herzog_," murmured old Princess Elsa, the older of the
two, "I would rather have that little chair...."

Princess Marianne also wanted a small, straight chair; the old ladies
thanked Othomar with an obeisance for his gallantry, sat down stiffly
and began their embroidery: great coats-of-arms for chair-backs. They
were very stately, with clear-cut but wrinkled faces, grey _tours_ and
black lace caps; they wore crackling watered-silk gowns, of
old-fashioned cut. Now and then they exchanged a quick, sharp word, with
a sudden crackling movement of their sharp cockatoo-profiles; they gazed
thoughtfully for a moment out to sea, as though they were bound to see
something important arriving out of the distance; then they resumed
their work. Their old-fashioned, stately, tight-laced, shrivelled
figures formed a strange contrast with the easiness of the young people
in their simple serge summer suits: they made Princess Wanda's tangled
hair and rumpled blouse look perfectly disreputable.

A third old lady came sailing up; she seemed as though she were related
to the two dowagers, but was actually Countess von Altenburg, who used
to be mistress of the household to Princess Elsa. Behind her were two
footmen, carrying trays with coffee and pastry, the old princesses'
_gouter_. The countess made a stately curtsey before the young princes.

"The territory is occupied," whispered Herman to Valerie.

They had all sat down again and among themselves were teasing Othomar
with his three Fates, as they called them, unheard by the aunts or the
countess, who was rather deaf. A noisy babel of ton