"It is the Pluggens family, dear Gustava," said the minister, who had reconnoitred the new arrival through the garden-hedge. "The lady herself, and her two daughters. Could you make a little haste." ...
"Excuse me, my dearest friend," said the poetess, hurriedly closing the book; "but you know: as often as we attempt to take a bolder flight----"
"Oh mistress, oh mistress!" cried the voice with increasing anxiety from the garden-gate.
"I am coming," replied the poetess, in great perturbation, and hastened on the sunny walk toward the house.
"Shall we not too----" suggested the minister.
"Excuse me, I pray, but I shall have to go," said Oswald, interrupting him.
"But why, my dear sir? The lady is a most excellent person, and the daughters, although not very beautiful----"
"And were they as fair as angels, I should have to deny myself the pleasure of seeing them. Good-by! Good-by! Pray make my excuses to Mrs. Jager. That gate there is open, is it not? Au revoir."
And so Oswald hurried towards the gate. The minister had far too good an opinion of himself and his Primula to ascribe the "dear friend's" precipitate flight to any other reason than his shyness and his reluctance to meet this high and noble family, to whom he was unknown. Oswald, in the mean time, made his way down the village street and out into the open fields, and did not relax his steps until he was safe under the fine old trees behind which, as he knew, was hid the estate of Melitta.