"Ah, gracious Fräulein, I am to leave," she stammered, "and I——"
"Why, what have you—?" The old lady got no further, for just then the door was opened a little way and the clear, full tones of a youthful feminine voice came out into the corridor.
"That is my last word, Märtensen; I will not suffer such things in my house. She may thank God that I have noticed her folly in good season. Only think of Louisa Keller!"
"God in heaven, Fräulein!" the person accosted replied in defence, almost weeping. "The lass has done nothing bad, and he is certainly a respectable man. O Fräulein, when one is young one knows too——"
"For shame, Märtensen!" This came vehemently. "You know what I have said. Take your Marieken and go. I will have no frivolous maids in my house!"
The door was now opened wide, and an old woman came out, her wrinkled face red with excitement.
"Come, lass," she called to the girl, who had just put her apron over her eyes again; "troubles don't last forever! She'll feel it herself some day yet! Driving away my girl as if she had been stealing!" And without greeting the old lady, she seized her daughter by the arm and drew her away with her.
Rosamond von Hegewitz turned slowly to the door. A half-mocking, half-earnest expression lay on the wise old face. "Bon soir, Anna Maria!" said she, as she entered the brightly lighted sitting-room.
A girl rose from the chair before the massive secretary, went toward the new-comer, and received her with that formality which at the beginning of our century had not yet disappeared from the circle of gentle families, pressing to her lips the outstretched hand with an expression of deepest respect.
"Good evening, aunt; how are you feeling?"