On the very day of her arrival, Annette awakened great interest in the village.
She ascended to the top of the church steeple, where none of us had ever been. She waved her handkerchief from the little window in the belfry, until we took notice of her and returned her salute. All of the villagers who were not engaged in the fields had gathered in groups, and were looking up at the church steeple.
When she joined us at dinner, she told us that she had already found out everything. The school-master had told her of the woods that had been planted by my wife, that she had already been at the Gustava Spring, and that the water had tasted as if it were pure dew.
"Ah, how fortunate you are to own all this! The very air you breathe is your own."
She talked incessantly, and many of her remarks were quite entertaining. She plied Richard with so many questions that he looked quite displeased, and soon left the table.
"I can tell by the professor's looks that he is musical; is he not?"
"Indeed he is; he is esteemed an excellent violincello player."
"I can assure you that I asked no one, and I am so glad that my intuitions did not deceive me."
While Annette was paying a visit to the school-mistress, Richard gave vent to his anger at her; but my wife pacified him. Annette could not enjoy the quiet possession of anything, and was always anxious to impart what she knew and felt to others. She was evidently of a very hospitable nature, and would, in good time, acquire repose of manner.
During the first few days, while we were yet without news of any kind, and before the journals had given us any information as to the movements of the troops, Annette did not allow us to get a moment's rest.