"Now you see; that is the way our daily life is always asserting its rights as soon as we try to rise a little higher," said the dweller in the spheres of highest cultivation. Oswald offered her politely his arm, and the minister laid his cigar carefully aside, so that he might easily find it again after dinner. CHAPTER X. Dinner was served in a cool, shady room which looked out upon a somewhat bald and very sunny garden, and the conversation soon became quite animated. Oswald's residence at Grunwald was an inexhaustible theme. His hostess was a native of that city, one of the many daughters of a higher church dignitary there, who had just lived long enough to procure for his son-in-law the best cure in the diocese. She was very proud of her Doctor of Divinity, for the minister had actually obtained that academic honor by a most erudite dissertation on the writings which an obscure father of the church, of whom literally nothing was known beyond the name, might possibly have left behind him. But Oswald could not help noticing that he had certainly not been caught by her personal attractions, and no longer wondered why the table was so small and the house so quiet. The good lady also knew Professor Berger, and some other families with whom Oswald had become acquainted. Thus they could enjoy a delightful dish of gossip with each other, and Oswald understood what devastation the double-edged sword of his hostess must, in her time, have caused in a small town like Grunwald. In the mean time the dessert had been put upon the table, and the minister had opened a second bottle with a certain solemnity; the lady had left them, and ordered coffee to be served in a garden-house. The minister had lighted a cigar, unbuttoned his black satin waistcoat half-way, and seemed to be determined to indulge himself in the illusion that he had enjoyed a sybaritic feast. He summoned Oswald to drink with him to the health of that most illustrious family with whom he had the good fortune to reside, a compliment which Oswald returned by offering a toast to his amiable, learned, and yet modest hostess. "Many thanks, many thanks, my dear young friend," said the flattered minister, pressing Oswald's hand over and over again. "Yes, you are right, a learned, modest woman. Have you noticed that she corresponds with more than one of our greatest literary men, and that she contributes under the name of Primula to some of our magazines?" "Is it possible?" said Oswald "I assure you it is so, my dear friend, and you may imagine what pleasure it gives me to read in the 'Correspondence' of the paper: 'Fashwitz, Primula Veris (that is Gustava's cipher), a thousand thanks for your amiable letter;' or, 'You have given us great pleasure by sending us your admirable poem; it will appear in the next number,' etc." "I can well imagine," replied Oswald, in an absent manner. "But had we not better follow our charming hostess into the garden?"