Turning to Trude, Marie asked her, with a reproving look and tone, if she had received her letter, or if she had forgotten her express commands that no one but the servants should be in the house to receive them. “I did not forget it, my lady, and I have read the orders to Frau von Werrig, but she--” “Knew that this wish had no reference to her, as she is her mother--Tell me, my beloved son, is it not very natural and fitting that I should be here to receive you?’ “I find it a matter of course,” answered Von Ebenstreit, to whom it appeared a relief to find an ally in the mother against his proud and beautiful wife. “I rejoice to see our dear mother here, and I beg Marie will join me.” Marie cast an angry glance toward her husband, which so confused and perplexed him, that he looked down. Then advancing toward the drawing-room, with her usual cold demeanor, without further comment upon the ostentatious furniture, she commanded her husband to follow, who obeyed, giving his arm to his mother-in-law. “Oh, this is glorious!” he cried, smiling. “What splendor, what luxury! Tell me, my dear mother, is not this beautiful reception-room very aristocratically and appropriately fitted up?” “I should think a princess or a queen might be satisfied with it,” she cried, with enthusiasm. “Even in royal palaces there is nothing of the kind to compare to this gold-embroidered tapestry.” “Baron,” said Marie, commandingly, “have the kindness to dismiss the steward. I wish to speak with you and Frau von Werrig.” The steward slipped out without waiting to be sent, and Trude stood near the door, turning to the young baroness, as if to ask if she might remain. “Did you not hear, Trude?” cried the mother, impatiently. “Tell her to go!” “Remain, Trude,” said Marie, quietly. “You are familiar with the past. I have nothing to deny to you; shut the door and stay here.--And now,” she continued, as her voice lost its gentleness, when she addressed her mother, “if it is agreeable to you, I should like to have an understanding with you!” “But, my child,” sighed the mother, “how strangely altered you are! You address me, your mother, as Frau von Werrig, and you speak to Ebenstreit in a very formal manner, who has been your dear, faithful husband for three years. Oh, my darling son, what does this ceremonious manner mean?” “The very first hour, after our marriage, that we were alone my dear Marie severely reproved me for having addressed her in an intimate, affectionate manner, like the common class, as she called it, and I have never done so since.” “You must be convinced that I am right,” said Marie, calmly, “and that it does not become two beings, who neither love nor esteem each other, and who live in the most ceremonious manner, to address one another with endearing epithets. At any rate we are not accountable to any one, and Frau von Leuthen must know the relations we bear to each other in the so-called marriage, as it is her arrangement for the most part.”