It was some time before the procession overcame the hindrances of the journey, for the Professor in the eagerness of reading, sometimes stopped to explain, as might be seen from the motion of his hands. Ilse examined the appearance of the strange pedestrians with curiosity. The wife was pale and delicate; one could perceive that she had recently left a sick bed. The man had a nobly formed, intellectual face, about which hung long dark hair with a sprinkling of gray upon it. They had come close to the guests, when the wife turned her eyes from her husband and perceived the visitors. "What a pleasure!" cried the Philosopher, dropping his book into the great pocket of his coat. "Good morning, my dear colleague. Ha! that is our dear Professor's wife. Unhitch me from the carriage, Aurelia; the family bonds hamper me." The unhitching took some time, as the hands of the mistress of the house were not free, and Professor Raschke by no means kept still, but struggled forward, and had already seized with both hands those of his colleague and wife. "Come into the house, my dear guests," he exclaimed, striding forward with long steps, while Felix introduced his wife to the lady. Professor Raschke forgot his baby carriage, which Ilse lifted over the threshold and rolled into the hall. There she took up the neglected child from its seat and both ladies entered the room with a diminutive chip of philosophy in their arms, exchanging their first friendly greetings, while the little one in Ilse's arms lustily swung his rattle, and the youngest child on the arm of its mother began to scream. Meanwhile colleague Raschke went about clearing the room, removed books and papers from the sofa, shook faded sofa-cushions into form, which emitted clouds of dust, and cordially invited his guests to be seated. At length the confusion subsided. Ilse played with the child on her lap, while Mrs. Raschke after a disappearance for a moment came back without the screaming infant. She sat shyly by Ilse, but asked her friendly questions in a gentle voice. The lively Philosopher, however, was always interrupting the conversation of the ladies; he stroked the hand of the Professor, while he nodded in the direction of his wife. "This is quite right; I rejoice that you accustom yourself to our mode of life while still so young, for our wives have not an easy time of it--their outer life is limited and they have many demands made upon them at home. We are often wearisome companions, difficult to deal with, peevish, morose, and perverse." He shook his head disapprovingly over the character of the world of learning, but his face smiled with genuine pleasure. The end of the visit was hastened by the baby, who began to cry piteously in the next room.