Swathed in airy clouds of muslin, sweetly suffering, but resisting the united entreaties of all the rest that she will stay at home, Anastasia leans against the vine-wreathed balustrade of the terrace, a vinaigrette held to her nose.
Before Katrine has quite finished issuing her commands, the captain with Stella mounts upon the front seat of the drag, the general taking his place beside Freddy on the back seat. Want of room obliges the captain to act as driver himself. He gathers up the reins, and his steeds start off gaily. The rest of the company settle themselves as best they can in the landau, the Baroness and Fräulein von Gurlichingen on the back seat, Rohritz with Katrine opposite them. A few anxious moments ensue, in which every one asks the rest if they have not forgotten something. The servants bring the due quantity of rugs, plaids, umbrellas, and opera-glasses, and the coachman is bidden to drive off. The hacks sadly stretch out their long, skinny legs, and trot laboriously after the brisk drag.
In Reierstein, at the foot of a romantic ruin,--no picnic is conceivable without a ruin,--a déjeûner à la fourchette is to be spread in the open air. Dinner, which has been postponed from six to seven, is to be taken in Erlachhof on the return of the party.
Katrine is right: the day is superb, a fact of which she frequently reminds the possessor of the odious barometer.
"Wait until evening before declaring the day fine," Rohritz rejoins, sententiously. "The sun's rays sting like harvest-flies: that is a bad sign."
"Oh, you are always foreboding evil," Katrine says, with irritation.
Rohritz bows, and silence ensues. Katrine looks preoccupied, wondering whether the mayonnaise has not been forgotten at the last moment. Stasy flourishes her vinaigrette languishingly, and the Baroness, who has been hitherto absorbed in her own reflections, suddenly arouses sufficiently to utter in her deepest tones an astounding observation upon the imperfections of creation and the superfluity of human existence, whereupon Rohritz agrees with her, seconding her views with great ability in a Schopenhauer duet in which she maintains the principal part. She asserts that marriage, since it is a means for the continuance of the human species, should be avoided by all respectable people, while Rohritz suggests the invention of a tremendous dynamite machine which shall shatter the entire globe, as a fitting problem for the wits of future engineers.
Meanwhile, the sunbeams gleam warm and golden upon the luxuriant July foliage, and tremble upon the clear ripples of the trout-stream plashing merrily along by the roadside. In the white cups of the wild vines that drape with tender grace the willows and elders on the banks of the little stream, prismatic drops of dew are shining. The tall grasses wave dreamily, and at their feet peep out pink, yellow, and blue wild flowers, while the air is filled with the melody of birds.
Our two pessimists, however, take no note whatever of these trifles.
The road grows stony and steep; the hacks drag along more and more wearily and at last come to a stand-still. Anastasia becomes greener and greener of hue, and sinks back half fainting. "Ah, I feel as if I should die!"