That other indeed was a most impressive personage. She lay back in an armchair, so enswathed in white lace, swan's down, gauze, and tulle as to look still larger than she really was. Upon her head was a huge hat, bearing natural-sized plums and peaches, artificial blue flowers--forget-me-nots and corn-flowers--besides a blue gauze veil. Her face was amazingly big, and highly colored by nature, but toned down with powder to a rosy flush. It was somewhat pimply, and more or less moustached. Her fat, red, shiny hands were rigid with jeweled rings; and, although it was not at all warm, she waved incessantly a large fan of white ostrich-feathers, in the midst of which glittered purple and green precious stones. Most wonderful bangles of gold and silver--little pigs, crosses, hearts, and coins--hung in a great bunch upon her bosom, from a long, many-stranded necklace. A slender crutch with a gold handle stood beside her chair, and on the table at hand, a small green parrot was eating grapes. The seven little dogs--all of them white, with pale-blue ribbons around their necks--probably belonged to her. They sat in a threatening circle, as if awaiting the word, and sharply eyed Johannes' ankles. "What does that boy want?" she asked, in a deep, heavy voice, without even looking at Johannes. And before and answer could come, she called, "Alice!" Instantly, there appeared from behind a curtain, just as in a comedy, a trim, spruce lady's-maid. She was dressed in black, with cap and cuffs of dazzling whiteness. With quiet little steps and mincing manners, she glided up to the large lady, and offered a smelling-bottle, at which that person began to sniff industriously. Johannes sat there in extreme embarrassment. He felt that the costly cut-glass smelling-bottle concerned himself. It cried out, in the keen language of its hundreds of cut facets, "You smell of the third class!" He sat like one rooted to the spot, and all unnerved, looking at the smelling-bottle as if he wished it was a dynamite bomb which would promptly send himself, the fine house, and all his beautiful illusions, flying into space. Then Countess Dolores came to his rescue. "Dear Lady Crimmetart," said she, in a coaxing voice, "this is a very interesting youth--really, very interesting. He is a young poet who sings his own compositions. Is it not so, Johannes? They are so charmingly melancholy--really, charmingly so! Indeed, you must hear them, dear friend. I am sure they will please you." "Really?" said the deep voice; and the blue goggle-eyes in the frightfully big face glared at Johannes. "Oh, yes, Lady Crimmetart," continued the countess; "but that is not all. Johannes is also a medium--a sensitive--who can see all kinds of elementals--sometimes even in broad daylight. Is it not so, Johannes?" Johannes was too much distressed and confounded to do more than give a nod of stupefied acquiescence.