Egon bowed slightly. Herr von Osternau's cordial enthusiasm was gratifying, but Lieschen's eyes, as she looked up at him, filled him with a delicious intoxication, which, however, quickly evaporated when the Lieutenant, feeling forced to repress his irritation, uttered a few commendatory phrases in order to display his appreciation of music. His praise sobered Egon at once. He would willingly have disclaimed it in a few sharp words, but he suppressed them out of regard for the master and mistress of the house. He was glad to have further discussion of his song interrupted by old Hildebrandt's entrance with the post-bag, which had just arrived from Station Mirbach.
"A letter for you already, Herr Pigglewitch," Herr von Osternau said, handing Egon an envelope.
Egon hesitated for a moment to take the letter which could not possibly be for him, but there was no help for it, and he laid it on the table before him.
"Read your letter, Herr Pigglewitch, you need not stand upon ceremony," Herr von Osternau continued, kindly. "Here in the country the advent of letters is quite another matter than the receiving them in town. We live here so secluded from the world that letters are all we have to connect us with it, and of course we wish to open our envelopes as soon as they are brought to us. The post-bag comes in at this time every evening, and each of us instantly opens and reads whatever it brings him or her,--the contents often give us matter for discussion and conversation. So pray read your letter, I will set you an example by opening mine, whilst my wife, Lieschen, and Cousin Albrecht look through the papers and journals."
He broke the seal of his letter as he spoke, and became instantly so absorbed in its contents that he did not observe that Egon thrust the one addressed to Herr Pigglewitch into his breast-pocket without opening it.
Herr von Osternau's letter was very long, and it took him some time to read it through. Meanwhile there was a pause in the conversation around the tea-table. Frau von Osternau and the Lieutenant were busy with the newspapers, and Lieschen turned over the leaves of a journal, without, however, reading a word; she could not fix her attention, the melody of the song she had just heard so rang in her ears.
"A very odd, disagreeable letter from your uncle Sastrow," Herr von Osternau said, after a long pause, turning to his wife. "He wishes us to invite Bertha von Massenburg to pay a long visit at Castle Osternau, and I cannot very well see how we can help complying with his wish."
Egon, who had been reflecting for the last few minutes upon what was to be done with Gottlieb Pigglewitch's letter, started from his revery as the name of Bertha von Massenburg struck upon his ear. He turned, with an interest he could hardly conceal, to Herr von Osternau, who went on:
"Very unpleasant things have been happening in Berlin, things that concern us, although not very nearly: still we are distantly related to the Massenburgs, and Sastrow reckons upon the relationship. Bertha should be withdrawn from public attention and the gossip of the capital for a considerable time, your uncle says, and he thinks her best asylum would be with us; wherefore he begs me to send her an invitation at his house as soon as possible."
"What has happened?" asked his wife.