She sat up straight, smoothed her hair, and resumed her first manner of quiet dignity. "I am sorry that you should have witnessed my agitation," she said, with a faint smile. "I am not easily betrayed into exhibitions of feeling, but there are limits to one's endurance, there are certain things the bravest cannot bear." "Yes," said Anna. "And for a Treumann, social disgrace, any action that in the least soils our honour and makes us unable to hold up our heads, is worse than death." "But I don't see any disgrace." "No, no, there is none so long as facts are not distorted. It is quite simple--you need friends and I am willing to be your friend. That was how my son looked at it. He said '_Liebe Mama_, she evidently needs friends and sympathy--why should you hesitate to make yourself of use? You must regard it as a good work.' You would like my son; his brother officers adore him." "Really?" said Anna. "He is so sensible, so reasonable; he is beloved and respected by the whole regiment. I will show you his photograph--_ach_, the trunks are still unstrapped." "I'll go and send someone--but not Marie," said Anna, getting up quickly. She had no desire to see the photograph, and the son's way of looking at things had considerably astonished her. "It must be nearly supper time. Would you not rather lie down and let me send you something here? Your head must ache after crying so much. You have baptised our new life with tears. I hope it is a good omen." "Oh, I will come down. You will do as you promised, will you not, and forbid the Penheim to gossip?" "I shall tell the princess your wishes." "Or, if she must gossip, let her tell the truth at least. If my son had not pressed me to come here I really do not think----" Anna went slowly and meditatively down the passage to Fräulein Kuhräuber's room. For a moment she thought of omitting this last visit altogether; she was afraid lest the Fräulein should be in some unlooked-for and perplexing condition of mind. Discouraged? Oh no; she was surely not discouraged already. How had the word come into her head? She quickened her steps. When she reached the door she remembered the cup and the sugar-tongs. Perhaps something in the bedroom was already broken, and the Fräulein would be disclosed sitting in the ruins in tears, for she was unexpectedly large, and the contents of her room were frail. But then woe of that sort was as easily assuaged as broken furniture was mended. It was the more complicated grief of Frau von Treumann that she felt unable to soothe. As to that, she preferred not to think about it at present, and barricaded her thoughts against its image with that consoling sentence, _Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner._ It was a sentence she was fond of; but she had not expected that she would need its reassurance so soon.