“Always the governess.  You are just a born old maid.”

“And yet I still have hopes of finding a husband, perhaps even before you do.”

“For aught I care.  Do you think I shall wait for that?  The idea!  Furthermore one has already been picked out for me and perhaps I shall soon have him.  Oh, I am not worrying about that.  Not long ago little Ventivegni from over the way said to me:  ’Miss Effi, what will you bet we shall not have a charivari and a wedding here this year yet?’”

“And what did you say to that?”

“Quite possible, I said, quite possible; Hulda is the oldest; she may be married any day.  But he refused to listen to that and said:  ’No, I mean at the home of another young lady who is just as decided a brunette as Miss Hulda is a blonde.’  As he said this he looked at me quite seriously—­But I am wandering and am forgetting the story.”

“Yes, you keep dropping it all the while; may be you don’t want to tell it, after all?”

“Oh, I want to, but I have interrupted the story a good many times, chiefly because it is a little bit strange, indeed, almost romantic.”

“Why, you said he was a district councillor.”

“Certainly, a district councillor, and his name is Geert von Innstetten, Baron von Innstetten.”

All three laughed.

“Why do you laugh?” said Effi, nettled.  “What does this mean?”

“Ah, Effi, we don’t mean to offend you, nor the Baron either.  Innstetten did you say?  And Geert?  Why, there is nobody by that name about here.  And then you know the names of noblemen are often a bit comical.”

“Yes, my dear, they are.  But people do not belong to the nobility for nothing.  They can endure such things, and the farther back their nobility goes, I mean in point of time, the better they are able to endure them.  But you don’t know anything about this and you must not take offense at me for saying so.  We shall continue to be good friends just the same.  So it is Geert von Innstetten and he is a Baron.  He is just as old as mama, to the day.”

“And how old, pray, is your mama?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“A fine age.”

“Indeed it is, especially when one still looks as well as mama.  I consider her truly a beautiful woman, don’t you, too?  And how accomplished she is in everything, always so sure and at the same time so ladylike, and never unconventional, like papa.  If I were a young lieutenant I should fall in love with mama.”

“Oh, Effi, how can you ever say such a thing?” said Hulda.  “Why, that is contrary to the fourth commandment.”

“Nonsense.  How can it be?  I think it would please mama if she knew I said such a thing.”

“That may be,” interrupted Hertha.  “But are you ever going to tell the story?”

“Yes, compose yourself and I’ll begin.  We were speaking of Baron von Innstetten.  Before he had reached the age of twenty he was living over in Rathenow, but spent much of his time on the seignioral estates of this region, and liked best of all to visit in Schwantikow, at my grandfather Belling’s.  Of course, it was not on account of my grandfather that he was so often there, and when mama tells about it one can easily see on whose account it really was.  I think it was mutual, too.”