The brothers had risen, and the visitor, as she curtseyed to them, was filled with confusion. As Albrecht extended his hand from his chest, keeping his forearm close to his body, her arm was stretched out almost perpendicularly, when the curtsey which she made him had reached its lowest point.
“Dear Jettchen,” said Ditlinde, “what nonsense! You are expected and welcome, and my brothers know that we call each other by our Christian names, so none of that Grand Ducal Highness, if you please. We are not in the Old Schloss. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Will you have some tea? It's still hot, and here are some candied fruits, I know you like them.”
“Yes, a thousand thanks, Ditlinde, I adore them!” And Fräulein von Isenschnibbe took a chair on the narrow side of the tea-table opposite Klaus Heinrich, with her back to the window, drew a glove off and began peering forward, to lay sweetmeats on her plate with the silver tongs. Her little bosom heaved quickly and nervously with pleasurable excitement.
“I've got some news,” she said, unable any longer to contain herself. “News…. More than any reticule will hold! That is to say it is really only one piece of news, only one—but it's so weighty that it counts for dozens, and it is quite certain, I have it on the best authority—you know that I am reliable, Ditlinde; this very evening it will be in the Courier and to-morrow the whole town will be talking about it.”
“Yes, Jettchen,” said the Princess, “it must be confessed you never come with empty hands; but now we're excited, do tell us your news.”
“Very well. Let me get my breath. Do you know, Ditlinde, does your Royal Highness know, does your Grand Ducal Highness know who's coming, who is coming to the spa, who is coming for six or eight weeks to the Spa Hotel to drink the waters?”
“No,” said Ditlinde, “but do you know, dear Jettchen?”
“Spoelmann,” said Fräulein von Isenschnibbe. “Spoelmann,” she said, leaned back and made as if to draw with her fingers on the table-edge, but checked the movement of her hand just over the blue silk border.
The brothers and sister looked doubtfully at each other.
“Spoelmann?” asked Ditlinde…. “Think a moment, Jettchen, the real Spoelmann?”