"I can very well conceive that our forms must be rather strange to you, in your free Republic; I think that it is better at the first interview to shake hands."
She extended her hand, which Frau Ceres took, and rose as if forgetting herself.
"You are ill, I will not disturb you any longer," said the Professor's widow.
Frau Ceres considered it would be better to pass for a sick person, and said,—
"Ah, yes! I am always ill. But I beseech you, remain."
And when the Mother now addressed her, the sound of her voice, its tones of deep feeling, made such an impression upon her excitable nature, that she closed her eyes, and when she opened them, great tear-drops stood upon her long lashes.
The Mother expressed her regret that she had made her shed tears, but Frau Ceres shook her head violently.
"No, no, I thank you. I have not been able to weep for years—these tears have lain here—here." She struck her bosom with violence. "I thank you."
The Mother wanted now to withdraw, but Frau Ceres rose up quickly, went up to her as she stood there struck with astonishment, and shrinking as if from a crazy person, fell on her knees before her, and kissed her hand, crying,—
"Protect me! Be a mother to me; I have never called any one mother; I have never known a mother."