“Ach, mein Liebchen, but it is good to see you,” and the elderly woman embraced and kissed her over and over again, the tears running down her face. “Forgive me, Comtesse,” she begged, releasing the girl, “but I could not help it. I wanted to see you again.”
“Oh, Anna, I am so glad you are here, so glad. Now that I have my dear nurse again, all will be well.”
“Why, my little lamb, what is the matter? Are you sick or lonely or unhappy? Of course, everything will be well. I am going to stay with you, my little golden mistress. I only just heard of the Princess’s arrival, and did not lose a minute getting here. Certainly all will be well now.”
Helène looked at the dear face of her second mother, and felt so comforted that she believed a Providence had sent the good woman to her. How good it was to be loved and to have some one near you in whom you could trust and to whom you could tell the doubts that were racking your heart!
“But how do you happen to be in Weimar, Anna?”
The question was sufficient to open the sluices of the nurse’s reservoir of talk; she talked so rapidly that she barely gave herself time to catch her breath. She was married now—to Anton Schreiber—Anton had been chief valet to His Highness, the old Duke. They lived now in Altenburg, in a beautiful cottage with a lovely garden. Oh, and they were happy and comfortably off, what with her savings and Anton’s. She had come to Weimar to visit her niece, Josephine. Why the very Josephine who attended on her sweet lambkin! Of course! And, oh, how her darling had grown! How beautiful and grand she looked! And what lovely hair! How long was it since she had seen her? Yes—three years. Dear, dear, how time does fly! And what had she been doing? And what brought her to Weimar?
Helène waited patiently, smiling delightedly all the time. However, the good lady’s breath gave out, at last, and Helène had the opportunity to open up her heart’s woes. She was so unhappy in the castle, she explained.
“My dear,” replied the nurse promptly, “take no notice of the people—they’re not worth it. And we’ll begin at once.” She rose up quickly and ringing for Josephine said to her, “Tell the man to serve dinner here for two. I am dining with the Comtesse.—There,” she turned to Helène, “we’ll make ourselves at home, and do as we like.”
Helène was astonished to find how easily it could be done. She spent one of the happiest evenings in her life with this nurse, waited on and served by the lackey who looked to her the reflection of the fearful formality of the dining-room below. The hours passed so pleasantly that she knew not they were passing, and was surprised to find that it was time to retire for the night.
Even then Anna would not be gainsaid; she must put her darling to bed and see that she was snug and comfortable.