"First your health, ma'am! for that I value above all. And may God always let your eyes shine as brightly as they do now! And then your health, sir! And may Heaven bless your coming into this house, so that nothing but peace and happiness may follow it. And that is old Baumann's hearty wish."
Then he slowly emptied his glass, throwing back his head, until his eye looked straight at the full-cheeked angel in the stucco ornaments of the ceiling; and placing the glass again on the sideboard, he went to the window; turning his back to the company, as if he did not wish to interrupt their conversation any further.
The presence of the old servant and the fiery wine had loosed the tongues once more, and made the glances bolder. They chatted, apparently quite at ease, about indifferent things, until Oswald reminded Melitta of her promise to show him to-day the cottage in the forest.
"Did I promise?" asked Melitta. "Well, then I suppose I have to do it, although I am almost sorry for it, for you do not believe in my saint, and are therefore not worthy to enter into my chapel."
"Your saint?"
"The great lady of Milo. I must tell you now also how great my enthusiasm was for the deity. After my return home, the memory of the beautiful statue in the Louvre pursued me so persistently that I did not rest till I had procured an excellent copy from Paris. But as I did not dare to set up my saint here in the house, I had her carried to the cottage in the forest, which thus became a forest-chapel. Whenever visitors come to Berkow, the key is lost; when I am alone I spend days and nights there, especially when the world has annoyed me more than ordinarily; or when I desire to be rather alone, than to have such company as I do wish to have."
"I should not have expected such hypochondriacal caprices in you."
"Why not?"
"Because you look--can look so good and so cheerful."
"And do you not know that cheerful eyes weep most readily?"