No dinner could be dull if Madame de Ruth was there; and Zollern, with his courtly grace and witty talk, was a host in himself. Reischach was silent, but his openly admiring looks at Wilhelmine pleased her more than the phrases of a talkative gallant. As for Graevenitz, he talked loudly, according to his wont, paying but little heed to the random answers of Monsieur de Stafforth, who like Reischach was occupied with Wilhelmine. But, unlike Reischach, Stafforth's admiration, though not so open, had that touch of coarseness which is so often the mark of the bourgeois' approval. Madame de Graevenitz, it was evident, entirely disapproved of Wilhelmine. She was a pretty, colourless devotee, and she felt her sister-in-law's beauty and obvious fascination to be almost indecorous. Madame de Ruth chattered as usual, though at moments she paused to whisper a comment to Zollern, who answered in a low voice by some subtle irony which caused the lady much amusement. The dinner was very long, and it was with relief that Wilhelmine saw her hostess rise from the table. 'Coffee in the garden, mes amis! and then Mademoiselle de Graevenitz shall sing to us. There is a clavichord in the panelled room, and we will leave the garden door open in order to hear the music. Come, Marie! what a gloomy face! Why must the pious be gloomy? Lord, girl! forget your sins for once, or you will exhaust the stock, and then there will be nothing to repent of. Think, my dear,' she said, turning to Wilhelmine, 'your sister-in-law is a saint. O Monseigneur, you shake a finger at me! Brook? Who talks of brooks? Ah, well, I talk too much!--well, well!--An account on the Last Day of my words? I pity the angel who adds up the sum! But come, coffee! and a moment's silence, my friends!' They all laughed. Madame de Ruth's vivacity was infectious; and even Marie Graevenitz was smiling, as the party passed through the living-room and into the garden. They went down the red-tiled path, and, turning to the left, came to a stone bench before which, on a square table, the servant had placed the coffee and seven tiny porcelain cups. Madame de Ruth busied herself preparing the coffee for her guests, and Zollern watched her, seated near on the bench. Marie Graevenitz walked a short distance away, her demure figure harmonising well with the peace of the formal garden; Graevenitz leaned against the back of the bench and looked with complacency at the good brown coffee, which his hostess was pouring into the little cups. Coffee was expensive, and being regarded as a great luxury, was only dispensed in very small quantities. Reischach and Monsieur de Stafforth were dallying with Wilhelmine, who stood listening to their compliments with a smile on her lips.