"Susanna grew somewhat more interested when dress-patterns arrived from Berlin, by Klaus's order. The small hands turned over the gay little pieces with real satisfaction; she ran from Anna Maria to Isa, and from Isa to me, asking whether we preferred satin or moiré antique, brocade or gros de Tours. And every evening, punctually at seven o'clock, came Edwin Stürmer, through autumn darkness, rain, and wind.
"I remember how one day he came into the room and inquired after the health of the ladies; how, when he was preparing to leave, Anna Maria said her friendly: 'Will you not stay with us, baron?' And how he then laid aside hat and riding-whip again, ate supper with us, and then sat down at the whist-table—all as usual, and yet so different.
"Susanna was a careless and not a clever player; she threw her cards down at random, never knew what had been played, and had no idea of the real meaning of the game. Anna Maria took this, like every occupation of life, seriously, and examined it thoroughly.
"'But, Susanna, do pay attention; you are playing into your opponent's hand!' she would say during the game; or, 'Please, Susanna, do not look at Aunt Rosamond's cards; you must not do that!" It had a pedantic sound when one looked at that smiling, rosy creature, who held the cards in her little hands with such charming awkwardness, forgot every instant what was the trump, laughed out from pure pleasure when she took a trick, and would be so truly disheartened when she lost. 'Oh, est il possible?' she would ask, shaking her head; 'not a trick?'
"Stürmer played this whist with the patience of an angel; he picked up Susanna's fallen cards unweariedly, smiled when she laughed, and when Anna Maria scolded an almost imperceptible wrinkle came between his brows. Occasionally, when he was Anna Maria's partner, she would appear confused and embarrassed, and he distracted; and once or twice they lost the rubber, just as they had done before. 'Unlucky at cards, lucky in love!' said Pastor Grüne, who sat behind Anna Maria's chair on such evenings. She blushed suddenly, and her hand, which still held the last card, trembled. Edwin Stürmer, with fine tact, seemed not to hear the allusion, and Susanna was silent and looked at Anna Maria with, all at once, a strange sparkle in her eyes. Of her relation to Klaus no mention had ever been made in the presence of a stranger, according to agreement; she herself had the least thought of betraying herself by a hasty utterance. Once I had asked if Stürmer might not be initiated. But Anna Maria declared that Klaus would not wish it, so I kept still.
"Susanna rarely spoke of her absent lover; but Isa put two letters to him into the mail-bag, regularly, every week, in answer to his frequent, longing epistles. In her room, meanwhile, all manner of presents accumulated, which Klaus bought for her in Breslau—knick-knacks, ornaments, fans, and such useless things, which I could never think of in connection with Anna Maria. Klaus had never cared for such things before, either, and therefore did not exactly understand choosing them, and many an old, unsalable article may have been put into his hand as the latest novelty for the sake of heavy money. Susanna had a remarkably well-developed sense of beauty, and the charming way of women, of wearing a thing out of devotion because a beloved hand gave it, seemed totally unknown to her. But she exulted aloud when she discovered a little old lace handkerchief which Anna Maria had found, in rummaging in a long-unopened chest; and in the evening, when Stürmer came, she wore it daintily knotted about her neck, and in the delicate yellowish lace placed the last red asters from the garden.
"Anna Maria was more serious and chary of words after every visit from Stürmer; but an unmistakable expression of quiet, inward happiness lay on her proud face. She reminded me daily, more and more, of that Anna Maria who once, on a stormy spring day, came into my room, fell on my neck, and almost—oh, if it had only happened!—confided to me the secret in her young heart. Unspeakably pleasing she appeared, in her quiet happiness, beside that young, childish bride-elect, who was never still, who now laughed more wildly than a kobold, and the next minute wept enough to move a stone to pity. Yes, Susanna Mattoni could laugh and cry like scarce another human being.
"Often I saw Anna Maria standing in the twilight under the old linden; motionless, she looked over yonder, where, in the evening haze, the dark, gabled roofs of Dambitz emerged from the trees of the park. She had fallen into a dreamy state, out of which she would suddenly start, when she was reminded of Klaus by some eccentricity of Susanna's. Then she would look again in warm anxiety at the mercurial little creature, and then run into her solitary room, and not appear again for several hours.
"One day, just three weeks before the appointed wedding-day, I was returning, toward evening, from a visit to my old friend, Mademoiselle Grüne, at the parsonage. It was windy and wet and cold, a regular autumn evening, such as I do not like at all. I drew my veil over my face for protection, wrapped my cloak more tightly about me, and took the shortest way across the church-yard and through the garden. The manor-house looked gloomy behind the tall trees; not a window was lighted, but from the great chimney the smoke blew away over the roofs, like long, dark, funeral banners, and wrestled with the wind which dissipated it in all directions.
"I began to think with pleasure of the comfortable sitting-room, of a warm beer-soup, and the regular evening whist-table. Just as I was passing a side-path, I saw a dark figure sitting under the linden. 'Anna Maria!' I murmured, 'and in this storm!' For an instant I stood still, with the intention of calling to her, for a fine, drizzling rain was now falling, and I feared she would take cold on this dreary evening. But I gave it up, because I thought, on reflection, she would not probably want to be seen at all, or have an inquisitive look taken at a shyly guarded secret, and I made haste to walk away down the path as quickly as possible, to get away unobserved.