Innstetten shook his finger at her.  “Effi, you are too clever for me.  I always thought you were a child, and now I see that you are on a par with all the rest.  But enough of that, or, as your papa always said, ‘that is too wide a field.’  Say, rather, when you are going?”

“Today is Tuesday.  Let us say, then, Friday noon by the boat.  Then I shall be in Berlin in the evening.”

“Settled.  And when will you be back?”

“Well, let us gay Monday evening.  That will make three days.”

“Impossible.  That is too soon.  You can’t accomplish everything in three days.  Your mama will not let you go so soon, either.”

“Then leave it to my discretion.”

“All right,” and Innstetten arose from his seat to go over to the district councillor’s office.

* * * * *

The days before Effi’s departure flew by quickly.  Roswitha was very happy.  “Ah, your Ladyship, Kessin, oh yes—­but it is not Berlin.  And the street cars.  And then when the gong rings and one does not know whether to turn to the right or the left, and it has sometimes seemed to me as though everything would run right over me.  Oh, there is nothing like that here.  Many a day I doubt if we see six people, and never anything else but the dunes and the sea outside.  And it roars and roars, but that is all.”

“Yes, Roswitha, you are right.  It roars and roars all the time, but this is not the right kind of life.  Besides, one has all sorts of stupid ideas.  That you cannot deny, and your conduct with Kruse was not in accord with propriety.”

“Ah, your Ladyship—­”

“Well, I will not make any further inquiries.  You would not admit anything, of course.  Only be sure not to take too few things with you.  In fact, you may take all your things along, and Annie’s too.”

“I thought we were coming back.”

“Yes, I am.  It is his Lordship’s desire.  But you may perhaps stay there, with my mother.  Only see to it that she does not spoil little Annie too badly.  She was often strict with me, but a grandchild—­”

“And then, too, you know, little Annie is so sweet, one is tempted to take a bite of her.  Nobody can help being fond of her.”

That was on Thursday, the day before the departure.  Innstetten had driven into the country and was not expected home till toward evening.  In the afternoon Effi went down town, as far as the market square, and there entered the apothecary’s shop and asked for a bottle of sal volatile.  “One never knows with whom one is to travel,” she said to the old clerk, with whom she was accustomed to chat, and who adored her as much as Gieshuebler himself.

“Is the doctor in?” she asked further, when she had put the little bottle in her pocket.

“Certainly, your Ladyship, he is in the adjoining room reading the papers.”

“I shall not disturb him, shall I?”