“Good gracious, Meta!”
“First answer my question!”
“I do not know.”
“Fräulein Elsa does not know either, August!” cried Meta into the passage; “so pay him what he asks. And now, you dear, darling, best of creatures, tell me if I am welcome!”
Meta threw her arms round Elsa’s neck, laughing and crying both at once. “You see, here I am at last, without any letter, after announcing my arrival fifty times. I could not bear it any longer. As often as papa said, ‘You can have the horses tomorrow,’ it never came to anything; for when tomorrow arrived the horses were always wanted for somebody or something else. So when he said it again this morning, as we were having our coffee, I said, ‘No! not tomorrow, but today, immediately, on the spot, tout de suite!’—packed my box—that is why it is so small, my clothes had not come home from the wash—you must help me out—and here I am. And as for the cabman, that was only because my papa said: ‘Take care you are not cheated!’ and my mamma said: ‘Cheated! nonsense! if only she has her wits about her!’ And so on the way I vowed most solemnly to be desperately wise and not to disgrace you, and so I began at once with the cabman, you see.”
And Meta danced about the room and clasped Elsa round the neck again, and exclaimed: “This is the happiest night of my life, and if you send me away again early tomorrow morning it will still have been the happiest night!”
“And I hope that this evening will be followed by many happy ones for both of us. Oh! you do not know, dear Meta, how glad I am to see you!” cried Elsa, taking Meta in her arms and heartily returning her kiss.
“Now that I know that,” said Meta, “I do not in the least want to know about anything else; that is to say I should like it dreadfully, but it is a point of honour with me now to be wise and discreet, you know; and you do not know that side of my character yet—neither do I myself. We must make acquaintance with me together, that will be awfully amusing. Good gracious! what nonsense I am talking just from sheer happiness!”
Meta’s presence was for the house in the Springbrunnenstrasse like a sunbeam penetrating a chink in the shutters of a dark room. It is not broad daylight, there are heavy shadows enough still; anyone who happens to pass a looking-glass starts at the dim reflection of his own sad face; and people move carefully so as not to stumble, and speak with bated breath for fear of what may yet be hidden in the darkness. But still they move and speak; there is no longer the former silent darkness with all its terrors.
Hardly a week had gone by, then, before the bright, talkative little girl had become the favourite of one and all. The General, who had almost entirely shut himself up in his own room lately, now spent a few hours every evening, as he used to do, with the rest of the family, unless, as had happened several times already, they were going out. He allowed himself to be instructed by Meta in agricultural matters, in which she declared herself to be an authority even with her papa—and that was saying a great deal—and permitted her to question him as to “what a battle really was like?” “Did Moltke sometimes yawn when it lasted too long?” and “Might a lieutenant wear varnished boots in battle?”
“It makes me shudder when I hear it all, Elsa; your friend is quite an enfant terrible,” said Sidonie; but was calmed and consoled at once when Meta expressed the greatest interest in her “Court Etiquette,” and declared that it was a very different sort of thing from Strummin etiquette. One found oneself always in the best society with highnesses and serene highnesses; and if one did sometimes come down to the backstairs, in her eyes a page of the backstairs was a person highly to be respected.
“She really has very considerable talents,” said Sidonie, “and a great desire for instruction. I have given her the first part of Malortie’s High Chamberlain; you might read it aloud together for half an hour this evening, instead of chattering till . Heaven only knows what you find to talk about!”
Even Ottomar, who since his engagement was hardly ever seen at home—“He is not with us,” said Carla—appeared again now, if he knew that his father would not be there, and made so merry with the mischievous girl, “that it cuts one to the heart,” thought Elsa.
The servants even were enchanted with the strange young lady. Ottomar’s man protested that she would suit the Lieutenant ten times better; the lady’s-maid praised her because one could at any rate quarrel with her, which was quite impossible with Fräulein Elsa; and August said she was A 1.
In society, too, Meta made many conquests. Old Baroness Kniebreche thought her tout à fait ridicule, mais délicieuse. The saying went the round, like all that came from that toothless old mouth, and la délicieuse ridicule was welcomed everywhere. Wartenberg was of opinion that the girl “always brought life into the place.” Tettritz was always reminded by her of the shepherd’s flute in Tristan; Schönau said she was an original; and Meta, in return, found everybody and everything charming. She had never thought there were so many charming people; “but you are the best of all, Elsa, and nothing else really signifies!”
And indeed while the kindhearted girl seemed to give herself up entirely to the enjoyment of the gay bustle of society, and often indeed to be quite absorbed in it, she really had only one serious interest, and that was to love and please Elsa. She had come because the melancholy tone of Elsa’s last letters had startled
