"So, you are really come at last?" was Lenz's greeting to Annele.
"Why at last?" asked she.
"What! have you forgotten that you promised me to come six weeks ago?"
"When?—I'm sure I don't remember."
"On the very day after my mother died; you said you would come soon."
"Yes, yes!—it must be so—no doubt I did. I felt that there was something on my conscience, but I did not know what. Now this is it—of course it is. But, good heavens! in a house like ours, you have no idea of all the things that pass through my head." So said Annele, and Lenz felt something like a sharp pain in his heart.
He had no leisure, however, to reflect at that moment as to what had caused him either pain or pleasure; for now there were mutual greetings on the part of the Doctor and the Landlord of the "Lion."
Annele had even some thoughts of following the town fashion, and kissing the Doctors daughters, the friends whom she detested so cordially—for they were always rather reserved with Annele.
Amanda, the daughter who cultivated herbs, had taken off her broad-leaved hat, as if she had been at home; and now Annele did the same, and she had much finer hair than all the other three put together—indeed, she could sit on hers; and it was so long and so luxuriant, that she wore it like a coronet in three thick plaits, and looked remarkably well in it too.
Lenz first put in a pretty waltz, and then a gay melody out of Mozart's "Magic Flute," which was set in a particular way—the "Song of the Moor."