"I always was a lucky dog," he exclaimed, as he stooped to kiss Frau von Stolt's large red hand. She was still dumb, but had advanced a few steps to meet him. "I had made up my mind that I should have to beg each of these ladies' pardon separately for having been so remiss about calling since my return; but now I can make one solemn ceremony do for all."
This was rattled off fluently, as if it had been learnt by heart. Frau von Stolt, whose broad shoulders entirely hid Felicitas's, muttered a subdued "Welcome," and shook his hand as if she never meant to let it go.
But it was no good. Laughing, he passed on, and stretched out his hand (saying that they were all equally good friends and neighbours) to the first who sat next on the sofa to the hostess.
A long, terrified silence ensued. His right hand remained suspended in mid-air. Then her name rang haltingly from his lips.
Felicitas, deadly pale, slowly lifted her big blue eyes, and gave the clumsy hostess a look of pitiful reproach, as much as to say that the responsibility for the monstrous thing that was going to happen, if it caused a scandal in the house, would be on her own shoulders. And then she laid two trembling fingers in the waiting hand.
A deep breath passed through the salon.
Leo had bent down to impress a light kiss of gratitude on the hand which had been extended to him in forgiveness, and now he turned hurriedly away from her to Frau von Sembritzky, whom he greeted with the noisiest effusion. Thus there was no reason why he should remark that Felicitas, who was half fainting, was led from the room by Frau von Stolt.
The ladies, delighted from the bottom of their hearts that the painful situation had been so well got over, also seemed as if they saw and heard nothing; while Leo broke into exclamations of amazement at the sight of little Meta Podewyl--had he not carried her pickaback?--promoted to the dignity of a married woman.
The gentle little person, who in her lilac silk gown was enthroned so prettily among the older ladies, smiled, feeling shy and flattered. Together with the others sitting at the "young girls'" table, she had gushed and dreamed about the fugitive. It was said that it was she who had composed the verses of the chorale, which every Sunday during the confirmation time had been passed round amongst them, and in which "foreign lands" rhymed with "sacred bands," and "home love" with "pure dove." But then Hans von Sembritzky had shown he was in earnest, and she had suddenly forgot her prayers for the absent hero.
Frau von Neuhaus, who had designs on Elly for her son, and so considered herself almost as one of the family, caught Leo by the arm, and led him over to the young people's table, where some who had proved less faithless were gathered.