In order to comply with the tenor of these paragraphs, the company left the table and returned to the sitting room in the highly excited condition in which people come from a finished artistic performance. They sat, and stood about, with glasses in their hands, and talked of the piece and the declamation. They all agreed that Doctor Winimer had this time, as always, surpassed them all, and that Miss Marie Kubel had not yet spoken loud enough, although, generally speaking, she might be said to have made some progress. The gentlemen gave each other marks, as they did with their school-boys, and of course all received the highest number. The ladies spoke of the sublime poet, of the chaste nobility of his verses. Miss Ida Snellius insisted that Schiller reminded her frequently of Euripides, whereupon the circle fell into a learned discussion, in which the words Sophocles, Goethe, Schiller, Aristophanes, Æschylus, Euripides, Don Carlos, Oedipus upon Colonos, and Wallenstein, were tossed to and fro like snow-flakes. Oswald looked for the author of the "Cornflowers," whom he had lost sight of since the beginning of the pause. He found her in a window-recess of the second room (otherwise the chaste bed-chamber of the two Misses Clemens), whispering eagerly to her husband. He was about to withdraw modestly so as not to disturb the _tête-à-tête_, but Primula rose as soon as she saw him, seized his hand and drew him into the recess. "Speak low," said Primula, with the hollow voice of a ghost. "What is the matter?" asked Oswald, in the same tone. "You shall tell me whether I ought to read!" breathed Primula; "Jager has no sensibility for such a disgrace." "Oh! yes, dearest Augusta," whispered the professor; "but I should like to avoid a scene; I pray you, darling, what will the people say when--oh, I cannot think of it." "I should be disposed to agree with the professor," said Oswald. "I do not see how you can be saved after being once entrapped into this lion's den." "Is the author of the 'Cornflowers' a murderer--a wretched assassin?" whined Primula. "Never, never!" "It is disgraceful," chimed in Oswald; "but the interpreter of Chrysophilos is in the same position, and you see he bears his hard fate with dignity." A pressure of the hand from the professor rewarded Oswald for this flattery. "Oh, you men have no feelings for insults," sobbed Primula. "Well, I will try, but if----" The stormy ringing of the president's bell from the adjoining room cut Primula short. She stepped ahead of the two gentlemen with the air of one who has formed a resolution, happen what may. "Now it will soon be our turn," said Doctor Winimer, as they took their seats under continued ringing of bells, to Oswald; "don't be afraid, and read bravely on. Even if you do not do very well the first time, it will be better the second time, and practice makes the master." "Whom I admire and revere in you," replied Oswald, bowing.