One can well fancy what a fine prospect that opened out for poor little Johannes! But Lady Crimmetart did not request; she commanded. It did not seem possible to decline.
Then came another housemaid—just as trim and still and swift as the first one—to offer tea, little slices of bread and butter, and hot cake. Johannes watched nervously, to see how the others partook of them, and then tried to do as they did. But, under the cool, keen regard of the trig maid, of course he upset the milk.
"The bishop is coming, too! The angel!" burst forth Lady Crimmetart.
Johannes had before his mind's eye the mitre and crozier at the evening party. It made him think of Santa Claus. Thereupon the ladies began chatting about church affairs, the altar and the Lord's Supper, elections, and corn-laws, until he could follow them no further. At last Alice was again summoned, the carriage ordered, the smelling-bottle stored away in a big reticule, the seven small dogs were arranged upon a long, blue-silk cord—like a string of beads; and thus, with the parrot upon the hand of the lady's maid, the procession passed out. At the door, the great lady, who limped a little with gout, turned round once again, while still fanning herself, and thundered: "Come on time, mind! And do not forget your instrument!"
"A woman in a million," said Countess Dolores after she had gone. "Is she not a wonderful woman, Johannes? So good! So clever!"
"Yes!" replied Johannes, meekly, his thoughts occupied anxiously with that instrument he was expected to take to the party.
At last he heard the chattering of high-pitched little voices, and the pattering of light little feet through the quiet house.
His heart began to thump. Then the door opened, and in two seconds the dear, soft little hands put him into a tumultuous state, and the lively, high little voices quite overwhelmed him.
He was consoled; and when they led him away, out-of-doors, and he walked with them, one on each side, over the green cliffs, beside the broad ocean—then he felt something of the new happiness for which he had hoped.