"
"Ah, yes, loneliness," said Egon with feeling. "It is a great change
after our eventful life in the East, and we enjoy it in full measure. I
occupy myself principally--"
"With the taming of wild beasts," interrupted the princess, maliciously.
"No, with--with--reminiscences of my travels, which I recount to
Hartmut, while he poetises a little, and composes melancholy odes from
them. He's writing a little poem now on some reflection he heard your
grace make."
The princess turned with a radiant smile to the young poet as she
exclaimed:
"And have you really been able to use any nonsense which I may have
uttered in a poem, Herr Rojanow?"
"Indeed, I have, your grace, and I am very grateful to you for your
idea," replied Hartmut promptly. He had no idea in the world what the
talk was all about, but was ready to second whatever his friend might
suggest.
"I am delighted to hear it; I adore poetry, and think it the greatest of
literary productions."
"You two will agree perfectly as to that," said Egon with admiration.
Having accomplished his object, he escaped, leaving his friend to enter
into a discussion with the princess, on the relative merits of poets and
their inspirations.
The prince once more approached the duchess's little circle, where he
was sure to find Frau von Wallmoden, and where he was far from the sound
of his malicious aunt's voice.
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