As she walked into the open air by Johanna's side and saw the sun shining, in spite of all that had happened, greenish-gold through the leaves, she took comfort for the first time. The new position of affairs seemed already more familiar.
"The oath may do good," she said to herself. "It will, at least keep me from doing silly things."
Frau von Sellenthin and Ulrich Kletzingk sat together on the terrace, keeping up a somewhat constrained conversation, because both were awaiting, full of impatience, Lizzie's return. A mounted messenger had been sent out to the fields to summon Leo home. Elly, irradiating placid rosy innocence, stitched at her embroidery, which was spread out on her knees; while Hertha, with idle fingers, was on the qui vive for coming events. Even the presence of Ulrich, to whom she had felt drawn long ago in the bonds of a glowing friendship, could not dissipate the panic which the mysterious meeting between the two women had awakened in her. She was the first to become aware of their approach. Walking close to each other, they loomed against the background of the park--the one in her black, flapping weeds resembling a gliding shadow, and the other like a white summer cloudlet.
Now grandmamma saw them coming.
"Thank God!" she murmured, rolling up her crochet, and giving Ulrich a sign to look round.
"Thank God," he repeated, as he kissed the old lady's hand. "Now at last we are at peace."
Every one had got up and looked towards the two women as they ascended the steps of the terrace.
"Well, I don't think it seems altogether like peace," thought Hertha, observing the expression of bitter chagrin which made her mother's features appear more severe and sour than ever before. Her eyes were searching Ulrich's face. "She looks at him as if she would like to swallow him," thought Hertha.
And then she came under the spell of Felicitas's charms, which held her close captive.
"Oh, how very beautiful she is!" she said to herself with a sigh. "How I should love to be like her."