"If Anna Maria could only have seen them thus, thought I, would she have been reconciled? Poor, lonely Anna Maria!
"Susanna never inquired for her; her stay here seemed to be entirely taken up with all manner of little trifles. Occasionally there came a perfect swarm of guests, and then the sound of laughing and chattering was heard in the garden-parlor till far into the night, and Brockelmann, with a very red face, bustled about at the sideboard.
"'I don't feel my feet at all, any more,' the old woman would sometimes complain; 'I really must have some one else to help me. In old times one used to know it beforehand when there was to be a great supper; but if any one came unexpectedly, he took just what there was in the house and was satisfied. But how should I dare take thinly sliced ham and fresh eggs and a herring salad to the Frau? I tried it once—how she turned up her nose and begged her guests to excuse it! And then the master comes and says: "Good Brockelmann, though it is a little bit late, do get us a couple of warm dishes, and this and that, and a little fowl, for my wife does not like a cold supper when there is company; you must have some asparagus or green peas?" Heavens and earth! And then old Brockelmann is so stupid, too, as to run her heels off and make the impossible possible. Oh dear, oh dear, if Anna Maria knew how my storeroom looks, and my account books!'
"And she put her hands up under her cap and shook her head.
"'You may believe it, Fräulein Rosamond,' she would sometimes add, 'the Frau is well enough yet, at least she doesn't concern herself about me; but the old woman—O Lord! She sticks her nose into everything, and more than a hundred times she has brought her chocolate out to me again—it wasn't hot enough, or was burned, or the Lord knows what! As if the old creature understood anything about it, anyway! Oh, yes, and then, if my patience is utterly exhausted, the master comes into the kitchen. "Good Brockelmann," he says, in his friendly way, "do keep peace with Isa, that my little wife may not be vexed." Well, then I keep still; but I see how he takes to heart everything that concerns his wife. And then I think how loud and angrily he has often spoken to Anna Maria in spite of all his love, and here he even spreads out his hands for the little feet to walk on!'
"Indeed, she had not said too much. He did lay down his hands for the little feet, and they walked on them without particularly noticing it. Klaus had a boundless love for his wife, and she received this love as a tribute due her. She had no conception of what she possessed in him.
"I do not know if he felt this. Occasionally, when Susanna was asleep, or making her toilet, or gone to a drive, and he had an hour to spare, he would sit with me up in my room, and would look so weary and oppressed. We spoke often, too, of Anna Maria; but when Susanna was present he did not mention her name, for at that a shadow regularly passed over her face, and her chattering lips grew silent.
"'My old Anna Maria!' he would say; 'she is still angry with me, and yet she is such a good, reasonable girl.' The last words were unconsciously accented. 'How pleasant it would be if she and Susanna could live together like sisters—the unfortunate stubbornness. Do you suppose, aunt, she will come when the old cradle down-stairs—?' And his eyes grew moist at this thought.
"'I do not know, Klaus, but I think so,' said I, 'if Susanna can only forget—'
"'Ah, aunt, I place my entire hope on the cradle about her, too. Anna Maria shall be godmother; I will not have it otherwise. Please God, it may not be far off!'