Meanwhile Johanna had gone over to the office to post the letter. Over there she had been in no particular hurry; on the contrary, she had preferred to carry on a conversation with Mrs. Paaschen, the wife of the janitor of the building. About the young wife, of course.
"What kind of a woman is she anyhow?" asked Mrs. Paaschen.
"She is very young."
"Well, that is no misfortune, but rather the opposite. Young wives, and that is just the good thing about them, never do anything but stand before the mirror and pull at themselves and put on some ornament. They don't see much or hear much and have not yet formed the habit of counting the stubs of candles in the kitchen, and they don't begrudge a maid a kiss if she gets one, simply because she herself no longer gets any."
"Yes," said Johanna, "that was the way with my former madame, and wholly without occasion. But there is nothing of that kind about our mistress."
"Is he very affectionate?"
"Oh very. That you can easily imagine."
"But the fact that he leaves her thus alone—"
"Yes, dear Mrs. Paaschen, but you must not forget—the Prince. After all, you know, he is a district councillor, and perhaps he wants to rise still higher."
"Certainly he wants to, and he will, too. It's in him. Paaschen always says so and he knows."