"Purple and rough was the coat of the cunning and noble Ulysses."
And when she sat opposite to him during her hour of instruction and he came to a pause, these words of admiration broke from her lips:
"Thus thou cleverly thinkest, and wisely speakest thou always."
And when she wished to praise herself, she murmured to the singing of the boiling kettle:
"Even in me lives wit, to discover the good from the evil,
Formerly though I was but a child."
Even the estate of her dear father now seemed to her illuminated with the golden splendor of the Hellenic sun.
"I do not understand," said her father one evening to Clara, "how it is possible that Ilse should so quickly have forgotten our farming customs. In her letters she speaks of the time when the cattle shall again wander in the wide plains; she means, I suppose, the fallow fields; for we feed our cattle in the stalls."
The north wind howled round the two neighboring houses, and covered the window panes with ice flowers; but within doors one day followed the other with varied coloring and full of light, and each evening, more enjoyable than the other, passed over the heads of the happy couple, whether they were alone or whether the friends of the husband, the instructors of the people, sat with them at the tea-table where a simple meal was spread.
For the friends of the husband and their clever conversations are pleasant to the lady of the house. The lamp throws a festive light in Ilse's chamber, the curtains are drawn, the table well-furnished, and a decanter of wine is placed on it when the gentlemen enter. Frequently the conversation begins with trifles; the friends wish to show their esteem for the Professor's wife--one talks a little about concerts and another recommends a new picture or book. But sometimes they come out from the study in eager conversation; their discourse is not always quite within her comprehension, nor always very attractive, but on the whole it gives her pleasure and refreshes her mind. Then Ilse sits quietly there, her hands, which have been active in her work, fall into her lap, and she listens reverently. No one who is not a professor's wife can have any idea how charmingly the conversation of the learned flows. All can speak well, all are eager, and all have a composed manner that becomes them well. Discussion arises and they begin to argue on weighty points, their opinions clash, they contradict each other, one says that something is black, another that it is white; the first shows that he is in the right and the second refutes him and drives him into a corner. Now his wife thinks, how will he get out of this; but she need have no anxiety, he is not at a loss--by a sudden sally he gains the advantage; then the other comes with new reasons and carries the matter still further, and the others join in, they become eager and their voices are raised, and whether at last they convince one another or each remains of his own opinion--which is frequently the case--it is always a pleasure to see light thrown on difficult questions from all sides. If one of them has said something really important and arrived at the heart of the matter, it puts them all into an elevated mood; it seems as if a supernatural light had burst in on them. But the cleverest of all, and he whose opinion is listened to with the greatest respect, is always the dear husband of the lady of the house.