"Well, then, I will do as you say," said Ernestine submissively, and she ascended the stairs with Johannes.
At the door of the supper-room she laid aside her hat and shawl, and he looked admiringly at her lovely pale face, with the noble intellectual brow and the large melancholy eyes, and at her tall slender figure. Who that saw her could withstand her? He was so proud of her!
As they entered, the guests stood around the table, awaiting him. The impression that she produced was an extraordinary one. It was as if one of those pale ethereal female figures in Kaulbach's "Battle of the Huns" had stepped out of the frame. No one had ever seen before such ideal and melancholy beauty in real life. In an instant all were silent, and gazed earnestly at the rare spectacle.
"By Jove! she's a dangerous woman," whispered Moritz to the Staatsräthin.
"Indeed she is!" she replied, scarcely able to take her eyes away from her. "My poor Johannes!"
"You don't see such a woman every day!" growled old Heim with pride. "Didn't I always say she would turn out a beauty?"
"The fact is, she is divine, and I shall love her dearly! Now say what you please," whispered Angelika. And, without waiting for a reply from either husband or mother, she flew across the room to Ernestine, who was standing overwhelmed with confusion, and cried, "Fräulein Ernestine, do you not remember me?"
Ernestine looked at her for a few seconds. "This must be little Angelika."
"Rightly guessed," said the young wife, and, standing on tiptoe, she pressed her rosy lips to Ernestine's delicate mouth.
Then Moritz approached, and said in his blunt, half-jesting way, "And I am the husband of this wife. My name is Kern, and I am besides, one of the monsters who had the courage to close the doors of our lecture-rooms in the face of a most beautiful woman."