"No consequence, Herr Major."
"Pardon my blindness, and give me back the insulting present, I beg."
Athalie drew back with a mocking bow, hiding the hand which held the thaler behind her. "I will give it you back to-morrow—leave it with me till then; I have fairly earned it."
Herr Katschuka swore at his stupidity. The inexplicable load he felt on his spirits seemed to have redoubled in weight. When he reached the street, he felt it impossible to go home, but went toward the main guard and said to the officer on duty, "My friend, I invite you to my wedding to-morrow; be so good as to let me share your watch to-night—let us go the rounds together."
In the servants' hall there was great fun. As the major had rung for the porter when he left, the mistress was known to be alone, and her maid went up to ask for orders. Timéa thought she was the one who had shown the major out, and told her to go to bed—she would undress herself; so the maid went back to the others.
"If only we had a drop of punch now," said the porter, thrusting the door-key into his pocket.
As if by magic, the door opened, and in came Fraülein Athalie, bearing a tray of steaming glasses, which clinked cheerfully together. "Long live our dear young lady!" cried every one. Athalie set the tray on the table with a smile. Among the glasses stood a basin full of sugar well rubbed over with orange rind, which made it yellow and aromatic. Frau Sophie liked her tea made in that way, with plenty of rum and orange-sugar. "Are you not going to join us?" she asked her daughter.
"Thanks; I had my tea with our gracious lady. My head aches, and I shall go to bed." She wished her mother good-night, and told the servants to go to bed in good time, as they must get up early next day. They fell eagerly on the punch, and found it perfectly delicious. Only Frau Sophie did not like it. When she had tasted the first spoonful, she turned up her nose. "This tastes just like the poppy-syrup that bad nurses give the wakeful babies at night." It was so unpleasant to her that she could not take any more, but gave it to the cook's boy, who had never tasted anything so good before. She said she was tired with her day's work, and conjured the household not to oversleep themselves, and to take care no cat got into the larder; then she said good-night, and followed Athalie.
When she entered their bedroom, Athalie was already in bed. The curtains were drawn; she knew Athalie's way of turning her back to the room and putting her head under the clothes. She hastened to get into bed.
But she could not get rid of the taste of that single spoonful of punch, which spoiled her enjoyment of the whole supper. After she had put out the light, she leaned on her elbow and looked toward the figure in the other bed. She looked, till at last her eyes closed and she fell asleep. Her dreams carried her back to the servants' hall. She seemed to see them all asleep there—the coachman stretched on the long bench, the footman with his head on the table, the groom on the ground, using an overturned chair as a pillow, the cook on the settle, the house-maid on the hearth, and the cook's boy under the table. Before each his empty glass; she alone had not drunk hers. She dreamed that Athalie, with bare feet and in her night-dress, crept up behind her and said in her ear, "Why don't you drink your punch, dear mamma? Do you want more sugar?" and filled the glass with sugar up to the brim. But she noticed the repulsive smell. "I don't want it!" she said in her dream. However, Athalie held the steaming glass to her mouth. She turned away, and pushed the glass from her, and with that movement she upset the bottle of water which stood on the table beside her, and all the water poured into the bed. That thoroughly awoke her.