Later in the day Baron Innstetten was betrothed to Effi von Briest.  At the dinner which followed, her jovial father found it no easy matter to adjust himself to the solemn role that had fallen to him.  He proposed a toast to the health of the young couple, which was not without its touching effect upon Mrs. von Briest, for she obviously recalled the experiences of scarcely eighteen years ago.  However, the feeling did not last long.  What it had been impossible for her to be, her daughter now was, in her stead.  All things considered, it was just as well, perhaps even better.  For one could live with von Briest, in spite of the fact that he was a bit prosaic and now and then showed a slight streak of frivolity.  Toward the end of the meal—­the ice was being served—­the elderly baronial councillor once more arose to his feet to propose in a second speech that from now on they should all address each other by the familiar pronoun “Du.”  Thereupon he embraced Innstetten and gave him a kiss on the left cheek.  But this was not the end of the matter for him.  On the contrary, he went on to recommend, in addition to the “Du,” a set of more intimate names and titles for use in the home, seeking to establish a sort of basis for hearty intercourse, at the same time preserving certain well-earned, and hence justified, distinctions.  For his wife he suggested, as the best solution of the problem, the continuation of “Mama,” for there are young mamas, as well as old; whereas for himself, he was willing to forego the honorable title of “Papa,” and could not help feeling a decided preference for the simple name of Briest, if for no other reason, because it was so beautifully short.  “And then as for the children,” he said—­at which word he had to give himself a jerk as he exchanged gazes with Innstetten, who was only about a dozen years his junior—­“well, let Effi just remain Effi, and Geert, Geert.  Geert, if I am not mistaken, signifies a tall and slender trunk, and so Effi may be the ivy destined to twine about it.”  At these words the betrothed couple looked at each other somewhat embarrassed, Effi’s face showing at the same time an expression of childlike mirth, but Mrs. von Briest said:  “Say what you like, Briest, and formulate your toasts to suit your own taste, but if you will allow me one request, avoid poetic imagery; it is beyond your sphere.”  These silencing words were received by von Briest with more assent than dissent.  “It is possible that you are right, Luise.”

Immediately after rising from the table, Effi took leave to pay a visit over at the pastor’s.  On the way she said to herself:  “I think Hulda will be vexed.  I have got ahead of her after all.  She always was too vain and conceited.”