Frau Dournay wished to send back an answer by the messenger, but he had been immediately sent off, no one knew why. It was Sonnenkamp who had given the order, and when she despatched her letter through a messenger attached to the house, it strayed first into Sonnenkamp's cabinet, who understood how to open it very dexterously, and who read with great satisfaction the reply which was no less decided than it was delicate in expression. Sonnenkamp smiled as he read where the lady laid stress upon the fact that she was the guest of the family, received as such in the kindest manner, and begged that the promised visit might be made to them, and to herself as their visitor.
Sonnenkamp smiled again and again, for he confidently expected that the Professor's widow would compel the whole neighborhood to accept himself, finally, as a member, in full standing, of their social body.
CHAPTER II.
THE IGNORANT IS READY TO BE TAUGHT.
Sonnenkamp went from his cabinet to the room of Frau Ceres; she sent word to him in the ante-chamber by a maid, that she desired to see no one. Paying no attention to the message, he went in and found her lying on the sofa, with the curtains drawn, so that in the large room there was a dusky twilight. Frau Ceres looked at him with her large dark eyes, but spoke not a word, only extending to him her delicate, small hand with long finger-nails. He kissed the hand, and then seated himself by the side of his wife.
There was silence for sometime, and then he began to explain to her that a nearer approach was to be made to the accomplishment of his plan through the guest now in the house, for this lady's hand would open the folding-doors of the apartments of the princely palace.
At the mention of the palace, Frau Ceres raised herself a little; her restless look showed how she was stirred by hope; for, beyond the sea, and in all his devious wanderings, Sonnenkamp had always held before his wife this idea, like some bright fairy-tale, that she would be able to enter into the court-circle, and it seemed to her as if she were to be introduced into some heavenly sphere, where everything was resplendent and glorious, a perpetual round of godlike existence. Such was the idea Frau Ceres had entertained of court-life. She was aware now that this was an exaggerated notion, but, wherever she went, she heard of this good fortune, and saw that every one was striving towards the court-circle, and she was angry with her husband, that his promises made so often and so long ago had never been fulfilled. They came to Europe; they had retired into seclusion, where people said everything was so beautiful, but whence she was continually expecting to be summoned to Court.
Why is there so long delay? Why are people so distant? Even Bella, the only one who exhibited any friendliness, treated her like a parrot, like some strange bird whose bright plumage she was amused with, but with whom she had nothing more to do than from time to time to give it a lump of sugar, and address to it some casual, pretty word. Even the recollection of her having surpassed all others in splendor at the fête of Herr von Endlich was only half satisfactory to Frau Ceres.
In the midst of all her apparent listlessness and want of interest in external things, she was continually harping upon one thought, and this thought had been instilled into her by Sonnenkamp; but it had become stronger than he desired, taking exclusive possession of her being.
He understood how to represent in a very plausible way, that the Professorin—to whom the Cabinetsräthin herself looked up, because she had been the favorite and most influential lady of the Court, even the friend and confidante of the Princess-dowager—that this lady would give to the whole family a new splendor, and surely be the means of their attaining the desired end.