"How did Sydney take that?" Mrs. Morgan could not resist a glance at her son.
"Oh, Sydney always does everything all right."
"Oh, something about Friedrich telling her that Mrs. Carroll and Ah were his best friends."
At Oakwood Baroness Hilda von Rittenheim's coming partook of the nature of an event. Sydney, who never had happened to hear even her name mentioned, went about during the time of her grandmother's absence in a state of agreeable anticipation. She was curious to see this unexpected arrival, and she took pleasure in arranging flowers in her room, and in shading the windows to produce the most desirable light.
"It will please him," she thought, "for us to be nice to her. Poor thing, she's lost all she cared for in the world; everybody ought to be nice to her." And she thought how happy she was herself, and resolved to be as kind as she knew how to be to the new-comer.
Sydney had a strong reluctance to face emotional or spiritual crises, and not even after her conversation on the bridge did she acknowledge to herself that von Rittenheim loved her, or that she cared for him. She was content to feel the glow that warmed her when she knew that she was the princess of his fable, and not to analyze her own feeling further, or to posit in him more than admiration.
Americans usually think of German women as fat and affectionate, or, if they are extremists, as "fit only to propagate their own undesirable race." Sydney formulated no idea of Hilda's appearance, but she found herself none the less surprised when she and Dr. Morgan watched from the window the tiny figure in its black robes, descending from the carriage.
"Why, the Baron said she was twenty-five, but she doesn't look any older than I do," she cried, and she flew down the steps to welcome her.
Hilda's little speech of thanks was natural and pretty, and Sydney liked her at once because she liked Friedrich. Katrina was delighted with her. Tom declared that he could listen to that accent forever, and John went into absurd raptures that were more serious than they sounded. Even Mrs. Carroll, usually not enthusiastic, granted her to be "Pretty? Yes, even lovely. And charming? Very."
Hilda must have felt herself to be under scrutiny during the day, yet she betrayed no knowledge of it. Her behavior was perfect. Several times she alluded to Max.