"Ah, here comes my Gustava," cried the minister, glad to be able to break off a conversation which he liked less and less every moment.
The minister's wife, who just then came into the room, was a lady of about forty, with sandy hair, very light blue eyes, and a face which, at that moment, was rather red from the kitchen-fire and the hurry in which she had dressed; ordinarily she looked pale, faded, and old-maidish. She wore a dress of yellow raw silk, with a gold watch in the belt, and a cap with yellow ribbons, so that on the whole she made upon Oswald the impression of an elderly, unhealthy canary-bird, hung up in a room which looks towards the north. She, too, could hardly find words--and yet they came in crowds--to express her joy at seeing the friend of the great house under her lowly roof--evidently a stereotype phrase common to husband and wife. She felt so grateful for the visit, as her poor man had no well-educated neighbor at all, and now, she knew, the want was at once supplied by Oswald's arrival.
"My poor Jager"--that was the husband's name--"my poor Jager will become a hypochondriac here," she exclaimed, fixing her watery blue eyes with great tenderness upon the object of her apprehensions. "I do what may be in my feeble power to make him miss the society of clever and learned men as little as possible, but a poor ignorant woman cannot do much in that direction."
"You will compel me to contradict you," said Oswald, in whom the sense of the humorous had been getting the better of the disgust with which the hypocrisy of the worthy couple had at first filled him. "I shall insist upon it that ignorance and Mrs. Jager have never yet met, much less can they ever have made acquaintance with each other."
"You are very kind; I am sure you are too kind," said the delighted lady. "I cannot deny that I have all my life endeavored to relieve myself, for one, of the popular reproach that women are unfit for the sphere of highest----"
"Dinner's ready!" cried the parlor-maid in at the door.
"Now you see; that is the way our daily life is always asserting its rights as soon as we try to rise a little higher," said the dweller in the spheres of highest cultivation. Oswald offered her politely his arm, and the minister laid his cigar carefully aside, so that he might easily find it again after dinner.
CHAPTER X.
Dinner was served in a cool, shady room which looked out upon a somewhat bald and very sunny garden, and the conversation soon became quite animated. Oswald's residence at Grunwald was an inexhaustible theme. His hostess was a native of that city, one of the many daughters of a higher church dignitary there, who had just lived long enough to procure for his son-in-law the best cure in the diocese. She was very proud of her Doctor of Divinity, for the minister had actually obtained that academic honor by a most erudite dissertation on the writings which an obscure father of the church, of whom literally nothing was known beyond the name, might possibly have left behind him. But Oswald could not help noticing that he had certainly not been caught by her personal attractions, and no longer wondered why the table was so small and the house so quiet. The good lady also knew Professor Berger, and some other families with whom Oswald had become acquainted. Thus they could enjoy a delightful dish of gossip with each other, and Oswald understood what devastation the double-edged sword of his hostess must, in her time, have caused in a small town like Grunwald.
In the mean time the dessert had been put upon the table, and the minister had opened a second bottle with a certain solemnity; the lady had left them, and ordered coffee to be served in a garden-house. The minister had lighted a cigar, unbuttoned his black satin waistcoat half-way, and seemed to be determined to indulge himself in the illusion that he had enjoyed a sybaritic feast. He summoned Oswald to drink with him to the health of that most illustrious family with whom he had the good fortune to reside, a compliment which Oswald returned by offering a toast to his amiable, learned, and yet modest hostess.