"Joseph, the countess is coming!" cried Josepha in a louder tone.
"You are deceiving yourself again, as usual," he replied in the wonderful voice which gave special importance to the simplest words, as when a large, musical bell is rung for some trivial cause.
"No, this time it really is she," Josepha insisted.
"I don't believe it."
Josepha shook her head. "You must receive her."
"She is not coming on my account, it is only to see the child."
"Then I will go. Oh, Heaven, what a life!" sighed Josepha, going out upon the green moss-covered steps of the half ruined stone stairs where the carriage had just stopped.
"Is that you, Josepha?" asked the countess, in a disappointed tone, "where--where is Freyer?"
"He is within, your Highness, he would not believe that your Highness was really coming!"
The countess understood the bitter meaning of the words.