Nurse Branscome turned. The voice belonged to a blond, middle-aged German, whose gaze behind his immense spectacles was of the friendliest.
"Yes—Corona: that is her name."
"So!" said the middle-aged German. "She is with my wive at this moment. If I may ascort you?… We will not then drouble Mister Smid' who is so busy."
He led the way forward. Once he turned, and in the faint light between-decks his spectacles shone palely, like twin moons.
"I am habby you are come," he said. "My wive will be habby.… I told her a dozzen times it will be ol' right—the ship has arrived before she is agspected.… But our liddle Korona is so agscited, so imbatient for her well-belovèd England."
He pronounced "England" as we write it.
"So!" he proclaimed, halting before a door and throwing it open.
Within, on a cheap wooden travelling-trunk, sat a stout woman and a child. The child wore black weeds, and had—as Nurse Branscome noted at first glance—remarkably beautiful eyes. Her right hand lay imprisoned between the two palms of the stout woman, who, looking up, continued to pat the back of it softly.
"A friendt—for our Mees Korona!"
"Whad did I not tell you?" said the stout woman to the child, cooing the words exultantly, as she arose to meet the visitor.