“Ah, Effi, how you do talk!  Do you know that you are a little coquette?”

“Thank heaven that you say so.  You men consider a coquette the best thing a woman can be.  And you yourself are not different from the rest, even if you do put on such a solemn and honorable air.  I know very well, Geert—­To tell the truth, you are—­”

“Well, what?”

“Well, I prefer not to say.  But I know you very well.  To tell the truth, you are, as my Schwantikow uncle once said, an affectionate man, and were born under the star of love, and Uncle Belling was quite right when he said so.  You merely do not like to show it and think it is not proper and spoils one’s career.  Have I struck it?”

Innstetten laughed.  “You have struck it a little bit.  And let me tell you, Effi, you seem to me entirely changed.  Before little Annie came you were a child, but all of a sudden—­”

“Well?”

“All of a sudden you are like another person.  But it is becoming to you and I like you very much.  Shall I tell you further?”

“What?”

“There is something alluring about you.”

“Oh, my only Geert, why, what you say is glorious.  Now my heart is gladder than ever—­Give me another half a cup—­Do you know that that is what I have always desired?  We women must be alluring, or we are nothing whatever.”

“Is that your own idea?”

“I might have originated it, but I got it from Niemeyer.”

“From Niemeyer!  My, oh my, what a fine pastor he is!  Well, I just tell you, there are none like him here.  But how did he come by it?  Why, it seems as though some Don Juan, some regular heart smasher had said it.”

“Ah, who knows?” laughed Effi.  “But isn’t that Crampas coming there?  And from the beach!  You don’t suppose he has been swimming?  On the 27th of September!”

“He often does such things, purely to make an impression.”

Crampas had meanwhile come up quite near and greeted them.

“Good morning,” cried Innstetten.  “Come closer, come closer.”

Crampas, in civilian dress, approached and kissed Effi’s hand.  She went on rocking, and Innstetten said:  “Excuse me, Major, for doing the honors of the house so poorly; but the veranda is not a house and, strictly speaking, ten o’clock in the morning is no time.  At this hour we omit formalities, or, if you like, we all make ourselves at home.  So sit down and give an account of your actions.  For by your hair,—­I wish for your sake there were more of it—­I see plainly you have been swimming.”

He nodded.

“Inexcusable,” said Innstetten, half in earnest and half joking.  “Only four weeks ago you yourself witnessed Banker Heinersdorf’s calamity.  He too thought the sea and the magnificent waves would respect him on account of his millions.  But the gods are jealous of each other, and Neptune, without any apparent cause, took sides against Pluto, or at least against Heinersdorf.”