"Oh, there are reptiles that feed on hemlock," said old Heim with irritation. "But, whether she be hemlock or belladonna, we all know that both are medicinal, and she might perhaps be useful as an antidote to the affectation and hypocrisy that infect the feminine world of to-day, producing bigotry, malice, and all sorts of moral diseases." "That was going almost too far," Moritz whispered to the old man, who passed him grumbling thus, with his hands clasped behind him. "I cannot abuse her any more, for Johannes's sake, but I do wish the devil had her rather than Johannes should have her!" Heim looked at him and contracted his white, bushy eyebrows. "To that nonsense all I say is, we will talk about it at some future time." The Staatsräthin approached. "Uncle Heim, you are blinded by your partiality. Convince us that this person is anything else than a brazen-faced claimant for notoriety, and God knows what besides,--convince us of this, And we will beg her pardon,--but, until then, we must be allowed to consider any intercourse with her, on my son's part, as a misfortune. Now give me your arm; we must go to supper." "Yes, let us go. I am tired, and shall be glad of something to eat," said the old gentleman, conducting the Staatsräthin into the house, where the table was laid. The others followed, and Elsa fluttered after them like the last swallow of autumn. They all entered the house by the large door opening upon the garden. Directly opposite was the door leading into the street. They began, laughing and talking, to ascend the stairs to the dining-room, when a carriage drove up. The Staatsräthin, who led the way, stopped and listened intently. It might be Johannes. The door was at that instant thrown open, and he appeared,--but not alone. There was a lady leaning on his arm. A murmur of surprise was heard. Johannes was quite as much astonished at unexpectedly encountering such an assemblage as the guests were at his entrance with a veiled lady, who was evidently embarrassed and desirous to withdraw when she saw so many people. But Johannes detained her. "I pray you, remain," he said to her, "you have no cause for alarm." The Staatsräthin leaned heavily upon Heim's arm, her knees trembled under her. "Compose yourself," the old man whispered in her ear. "Submit to the inevitable,--remember that your son is master of the house." "I shall not forget it," she replied softly, yet with bitterness. In the mean time, Johannes had reached the staircase with the evidently reluctant Ernestine. "My dear mother," he said, looking up at her with a face radiant with pleasure, "I bring you another guest." The Staatsräthin descended a couple of stairs with the air of one compelled to receive a guest whose visit she regards as anything but welcome.