Just at this point Frau Rosamunda plucks her spouse by the sleeve and forces him, nolens volens, to retire with her.
"I cannot understand you," she lectures him in their conjugal tête-à-tête. "You are really indelicate, standing staring at the children, when you must see that they are longing to kiss each other. Such young people must be left to themselves now and then." At first Frau Rosamunda found it very difficult to assent to this rather imprudent betrothal, but she is now interested in it heart and soul. She arranges everything systematically, even delicacy of sentiment. Her exact rules in this respect rather oppress the major, who would gladly sun himself in the light and warmth of happiness which surrounds the young couple, about whose future, however, he is seriously distressed, lamenting bitterly his own want of business capacity which has so impoverished him.
"If I could but give the poor child more of a dowry," he keeps saying to himself. "Or if Franz would but come to his senses,--yes, if he would only listen to reason, all would be well."
All this is in his thoughts, as he walks with his niece in the garden on this bright spring forenoon, while his nephew has gone to Vorhabshen to have an explanation with his uncle. Consequently he is absent-minded and does not listen to the girl's gay chatter, the outcome of intense joy in her life and her love.
The birds are twittering loudly as they build their nests in the blossom-laden trees, the grass is starred with the first dandelions.
Harry is expected at lunch. The major is burning with impatience.
"One o'clock," he remarks. "The boy ought to be back by this time. What do you say to walking a little way to meet him?"
"As you please, uncle," the girl gaily assents. They turn towards the house, whence Krupitschka comes running, breathless with haste.
"What is the matter?" the major calls out.
"Nothing, nothing, Herr Baron," the man replies; "but the Frau Baroness desires you both to come to the drawing-room; she has a visitor."