Ernestine made no reply, but his words produced a deep impression upon her. A tear trembled upon her eyelashes as she stood silently before him. Möllner then gave her his arm, and they all took their seats at table. Heim sat upon her right hand, and Taun and Hilsborn were opposite her. Then came Moritz with Angelika, and Herbert with Frau Taun, while the Staatsräthin sat upon Heim's right.
"Permit me to present my friend Professor Taun," said Möllner after they were seated.
"A friend!" added the latter to Möllner's words.
"He is one of those who voted in your favour," Möllner explained.
"I thank you," said Ernestine, "in the name of my sex."
"I cannot appropriate all your thanks to myself. They are due first to my dear friends Heim and Hilsborn, for they fought for you more bravely than I, to whom you were personally a stranger."
"Really, Father Heim, did you vote for me?" asked Ernestine in surprise.
"Well, yes," grumbled Heim, vexed that Taun had told of it. "The thing that you sent in was not bad, and I would have liked to open a wider field for your restless spirit, where you might find something better to do,"--here he sunk his bass voice to a whisper,--"than abuse God Almighty as a dog bays the moon, and make all honest folk your enemies with your atheistical stuff."
Ernestine started with a sudden shock. Was this, then, urged against her? She was amazed. Were there really people in these enlightened circles who could be shocked at her skepticism? Had Leuthold spoken falsely when he assured her that true culture was synonymous with emancipation from all religious prejudices? And who were the cultivated class, if these professors and their wives were not?
"Are you wounded by our friend's rough manner?" asked Taun, sorry for Ernestine's confusion. "You must know of old what a noble kernel is concealed within that rough shell."