You are young now, and handsome, and can get something on the strength of it; but how long will your beauty last?
In ten years' time it will be gone.
Nay, more, your loveliness may not even last so long as ten years if you continue to live as you are living now, for those damsels who stint themselves of the joys of life, wither the quickest----" "Hush! Mr.Boltay is coming." The old man entered, wished them good morning, and inquired if they wanted anything brought from town, as the horses were already being put to, and he would be off at once.
"Mamma wants to go away," said Fanny, with the utmost composure; "would you be so good, daddy, as to take her along with you ?" Mrs.Meyer stared with all her eyes, and all her mouth too; she had never said that she wanted to go away.
"Very happy!" replied Boltay.

"Where does she want to go ?" "She wants to go home to her daughters (Mrs.Meyer looked frightened).
There are some embroideries of mine there which I do not want my sisters to throw away or sell in the rag-market; bring them back to me." (Ah, what a sage damsel! what a golden-minded damsel!) "I am thinking especially of a sofa that is there.

Mamma knows which it is, for I embroidered the cover; it has two doves worked upon it.

I would not let my sisters have that on any account; do you understand ?" Why, of course she understood! This was the girl's way of showing that she accepted the offer of the gentleman who was so fond of sitting on the sofa, and how delicately she conveyed her consent--that blockhead of a Boltay did not suspect anything.

Oh, a sage damsel! a golden-minded damsel! Boltay went out for a moment to tell the coachman to prepare a seat for a lady, and taking advantage of this moment, Mrs.Meyer whispered in her daughter's ear-- "When may I come back for you ?" "The day after to-morrow." "And what answer shall I give ?" "The day after to-morrow," repeated Fanny.
Here Boltay popped in again.
"Wait a moment, my dear uncle," said Fanny; "I want to write a few lines to Aunt Teresa, which you can take with you." "All right, though it is a pity to ink your fingers, I think, for I can give her the message all the same, if you tell me what it is." "Very well, daddy, tell aunty to bring me a ball of _cashmir harras_, a yard of _pur de laine_, or _poil-de-chevre_----" Boltay was frightened at all those foreign words.
"It will be better, after all, if you write it down," said he; "I can never learn all that." Fanny, smiling all the time, produced her writing materials and wrote a short letter, which she folded up, sealed, and gave to Boltay.
Mrs.Meyer cast a significant glance at the girl out of the corner of her eye, allowed herself to be lifted up into the cart; the whip cracked, and off they went.
Fanny remained looking after them for some time, and then with a cold, contemptuous expression, returned to her room, watered her flowers, fed her birds, and sang herself back into a good humour again.
On reaching town, Boltay dismounted at the first shop (he pretended he had some indispensable purchase to make), and bade the coachman take Mrs.Meyer to where she wanted to go.