"He comes, He comes, the Holy One,
Filled with His might divine."
Involuntarily, Johanna, standing beside Aunt Thekla beneath the Christmas-tree, folded her hands: memories of vanished years crowded upon her heart; but, as she turned aside to wipe away her starting tears, her look encountered her cousin Otto's eyes fixed upon her. He had arrived in the course of the afternoon. She had not seen him before, and he now nodded to her by way of greeting. She courtesied, and was aware of the same mingled sensation of timidity and confidence that had possessed her at their first interview.
Beside Otto stood Magelone, more elfin-like than ever, in a long, closely-fitting pale-green silk, with her sweet smile and strangely-gleaming eyes.
"Is it Otto's presence that makes her thus brilliantly beautiful? It is strange that grandpapa has never destined these two for each other," thought Johanna.
The hymn was ended, the Freiherr was wheeled into the room, the rest crowded in after him, and soon the delight of the children made itself heard, and the poor stammered their grateful acknowledgments, while Hildegard and Hedwig cast inquisitive, unfriendly glances away from their own rich gifts towards a morocco case which the Freiherr handed to Johanna.
"Open it, child!" he said. She obeyed. A rococo parure of rubies and diamonds lay gleaming upon the yellowish-white satin inside the case.
"Your grandmother's bridal jewels, your mother's inheritance," said the Freiherr.
The sisters exchanged looks of indignation. Johanna kissed her grandfather's hand.
"I thank you; the double memory makes it very precious," she said, and closed the case. As she did so, Otto approached her.
"At last, Fräulein Johanna," he said, and held out his hand. "How glad I am to see you again!"