“It is very hard to get along without ‘society."’

“Also without a child.  Believe me, Luise,’society’ can shut one eye when it sees fit.  Here is where I stand in the matter:  If the people of Rathenow come, all right, if they don’t come, all right too.  I am simply going to telegraph:  ‘Effi, come.’  Are you agreed?”

She got up and kissed him on the forehead.  “Of course I am.  Only you must not find fault with me.  An easy step it is not, and from now on our life will be different.”

“I can stand it.  There is a good rape crop and in the autumn I can hunt an occasional hare.  I still have a taste for red wine, and it will taste even better when we have the child back in the house.  Now I am going to send the telegram.”

* * * * *

Effi had been in Hohen-Cremmen for over six months.  She occupied the two rooms on the second floor which she had formerly had when there for a visit.  The larger one was furnished for her personally, and Roswitha slept in the other.  What Rummschuettel had expected from this sojourn and the good that went with it, was realized, so far as it could be realized.  The coughing diminished, the bitter expression that had robbed Effi’s unusually kind face of a good part of its charm disappeared, and there came days when she could laugh again.  About Kessin and everything back there little was said, with the single exception of Mrs. von Padden—­and Gieshuebler, of course, for whom old Mr. von Briest had a very tender spot in his heart.  “This Alonzo, this fastidious Spaniard, who harbors a Mirambo and brings up a Trippelli—­well, he must be a genius, and you can’t make me believe he isn’t.”  Then Effi had to yield and act for him the part of Gieshuebler, with hat in hand and endless bows of politeness.  By virtue of her peculiar talent for mimicry, she could do the bows very well, although it went against the grain, because she always felt that it was an injustice to the dear good man.—­They never talked about Innstetten and Annie, but it was settled that Annie was to inherit Hohen-Cremmen.

Effi took a new lease on life, and her mother, who in true womanly fashion was not altogether averse to regarding the affair, painful though it was, as merely an interesting case, vied with her father in expressions of love and devotion.

“Such a good winter we have not had for a long time,” said Briest.  Then Effi arose from her seat and stroked back the sparse hairs from his forehead.  But beautiful as everything seemed from the point of view of Effi’s health, it was all illusion, for in reality the disease was gaining ground and quietly consuming her vitality.  Effi again wore, as on the day of her betrothal to Innstetten, a blue and white striped smock with a loose belt, and when she walked up to her parents with a quick elastic step, to bid them good morning, they looked at each other with joyful surprise—­with joyful surprise and yet at the same time with sadness,