“Now, my dear daughter,” she said at last, putting out her hand again, “however things are, you are here, and welcome a hundred times to your old home. We can talk everything over when we are calmer. Take your things off in your room and make yourself comfortable. Ida!” she called into the dining-room, lifting her voice, “lay a place for Madame Permaneder, and one for Erica, my dear.” CHAPTER X Tony returned to her bed-chamber after dinner. During the meal her Mother had told her that Thomas was aware of her expected arrival; and she did not seem particularly anxious to meet him. The Consul came at six o’clock. He went into the landscape-room and had a long talk with his Mother. “How is she?” he asked. “How does she seem?” “Oh, Tom, I am afraid she is very determined. She is terribly wrought up. And this word--if I only knew what it was he said--” “I will go up and see her.” “Yes, do, Tom. But knock softly, so as not to startle her, and be very calm, will you? Her nerves are upset. That is the trouble she has with her digestion--she has eaten nothing. Do talk quietly with her.” He went up quickly, skipping a step in his usual way. He was thinking, and twisting the ends of his moustache, but as he knocked his face cleared--he was resolved to handle the situation as long as possible with humour. A suffering voice said “Come in,” and he opened the door, to find Frau Permaneder lying on the bed fully dressed. The bed curtains were flung back, the down quilt was underneath her back, and a medicine bottle stood on the night-table. She turned round a little and propped her head on her hand, looking at him with her pouting smile. He made a deep bow and spread out his hands in a solemn gesture. “Well, dear lady! To what are we indebted for the honour of a visit from this personage from the royal city of--?” “Oh, give me a kiss, Tom,” she said, sat up to offer him her cheek, and then sank back again. “Well, how are you, my dear boy? Quite unchanged, I see, since I saw you in Munich.” “You can’t tell much about it with the blinds down, my dear. And you ought not to steal my thunder like that, either. It is more suitable for me to say--” he held her hand in his, and at the same time drew up a chair beside the bed--“as I so often have, that you and Tilda--” “Oh, for shame, Tom!--How is Tilda?” “Well, of course. Madame Krauseminz sees she doesn’t starve. Which doesn’t prevent her eating for the week ahead when she comes here on Thursday.” She laughed very heartily--as she had not for a long time back, in fact. Then she broke off with a sigh, and asked “And how is business?” “Oh, we get on. Mustn’t complain.” “Thank goodness, here everything is as it should be. Oh, Tom, I don’t feel much like chatting pleasantly about trifles!” “Pity. One should preserve one’s sense of humour, _quand même_.” “All that is at an end, Tom.--You know all?”