But when we tried to
bargain, it was always the same thing: he retired behind the shelter
of his Tyrolese nobility. We might take it or leave it. 'Twas still
Schloss Lebenstein.
The lawyers were as bad. We tried all we knew, and got no forrarder.
At last Charles gave up the attempt in disgust. He was tiring, as I
expected. "It's the prettiest place I ever saw in my life," he said;
"but, hang it all, Sey, I _won't_ be imposed upon."
So he made up his mind, it being now December, to return to London.
We met the Count next day, and stopped his carriage, and told him
so. Charles thought this would have the immediate effect of bringing
the man to reason. But he only lifted his hat, with the blackcock's
feather, and smiled a bland smile. "The Archduke Karl is inquiring
about it," he answered, and drove on without parley.
Charles used some strong words, which I will not transcribe (I am a
family man), and returned to England.
For the next two months we heard little from Amelia save her regret
that the Count wouldn't sell us Schloss Lebenstein. Its pinnacles
had fairly pierced her heart. Strange to say, she was absolutely
infatuated about the castle. She rather wanted the place while
she was there, and thought she could get it; now she thought
she couldn't, her soul (if she has one) was wildly set upon it.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98