"Where is Alide?" she asked, without noticing the stranger.
"Rahel," said the pastor, in a tone of reproof, "here is a visitor, Dr. Steck; that is hardly the way to greet him."
"I beg your pardon, papa," said the young girl, with heightened color, "and yours too, sir, whom I am happy to welcome," extending her hand with almost as little embarrassment and as much cordiality as her mother. "But, papa, I am uneasy about Alide; she should have been home long ago. I must go seek her." And she hastened away.
"We are all rather foolish about our Alide," said the pastor, apologetically; "she is the youngest of us,—but I have no fear for her. You will soon see them all, Dr. Steck, and I am particularly anxious for you to know my boy Otto; he is a lad of much promise, though a trifle reserved, and if he can but select such companions as yourself and Waldstein, I shall rest content."
"I shall be proud to know them all," said Steck, with sincerity, "for I do not remember when before I have been so happy in a family circle." And his eyes wandered to the door in search of the youngest daughter, whose prolonged absence created such a stir in the household, and occasioned an agreeable flutter of expectation in his own breast.
As he looked, the door was slowly opened, and Madame Duroc re-entered, bearing a tray with a flask of home-made wine, a china basket filled with the fruits of their orchard and vineyard, and a dish of her own sweet-cakes. Waldstein, who was quite at home in the family, cleared one of the tables and helped Madame Duroc to set the plates and glasses, and they all placed themselves around it.
"Kitty is proud of her Rheinwein," said the pastor, as he filled Steck's goblet, "and the surest way to her heart is to show your appreciation of it." And he clinked his own glass against Steck's and raised it to his lips.
"That she may well be," responded the youth, as he quaffed a long draught. "It is a most delicious vintage."
"You know," said Madame Duroc, with assumed modesty, "the parson's wine is always supposed to have a peculiar flavor."
"Never mind, Käthchen," said the pastor; "we will hold our own opinion still. The last time you tasted it, Max, was the evening young Vogel was here paying his court to Rahel. It seemed rather bitter in your mouth then, eh, Waldstein?"