A slight flush of anger rose in Aunt Rikchen's withered cheeks as the hated name sounded in her ear; but she answered in the voice expressive of resigned indifference, with which she was accustomed to reply to her brother's reproofs:
"Oh, nothing! I only asked Ferdinanda whether Justus was not coming this evening."
"Who is Justus?" asked Reinhold, delighted that a fresh subject had been started.
"Rike likes to call everybody by their Christian names," said Uncle Ernst.
"And why not, when they almost belong to the family?" replied Aunt Rikchen, who seemed determined this time not to be put down. "Justus, or, if your uncle prefers it, Herr Anders, is a young sculptor."
"Aged one and thirty," said Uncle Ernst.
"Aged one and thirty," pursued Aunt Rikchen, "or, to be more precise, three and thirty. He has lived here--who knows how long he has lived here?"
"Don't you know, Ferdinanda?" asked Uncle Ernst.
"Ferdinanda is in fact his pupil," continued Aunt Rikchen.
"Oh!" said Reinhold. "I congratulate him."