“Very true, very true.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean only—­But that is wholly immaterial.  Go on with your story; I am all ears.”

“So I asked her straight out how matters stood, and as I wished to avoid anything bordering on solemnity, in view of her peculiar character, and sought to take the whole matter as lightly as possible, almost as a joke, in fact, I threw out the question, whether she would perhaps prefer to marry Cousin von Briest, who had showered his attentions upon her in Berlin.”

“And?”

“You ought to have seen her then.  Her first answer was a saucy laugh.  Why, she said, her cousin was really only a big cadet in lieutenant’s uniform.  And she could not even love a cadet, to saying nothing of marrying one.  Then she spoke of Innstetten, who suddenly became for her a paragon of manly virtues.”

“How do you explain that?”

“It’s quite simple.  Lively, emotional, I might almost say, passionate as she is, or perhaps just because she is so constituted, she is not one of those who are so particularly dependent upon love, at least not upon what truly deserves the name.  To be sure, she speaks of love, even with emphasis and a certain tone of conviction, but only because she has somewhere read that love is indisputably the most exalted, most beautiful, most glorious thing in the world.  And it may be, perhaps, that she has merely heard it from that sentimental person, Hulda, and repeats it after her.  But she does not feel it very deeply.  It is barely possible that it will come later.  God forbid.  But it is not yet at hand.”

“Then what is at hand?  What ails her?”

“In my judgment, and according to her own testimony, she has two things:  mania for amusement and ambition.”

“Well, those things can pass away.  They do not disturb me.”

“They do me.  Innstetten is the kind of a man who makes his own career.  I will not call him pushing, for he is not, he has too much of the real gentleman in him for that.  Let us say, then, he is a man who will make his own career.  That will satisfy Effi’s ambition.”

“Very well.  I call that good.”

“Yes, it is good.  But that is only the half.  Her ambition will be satisfied, but how about her inclination for amusement and adventure?  I have my doubts.  For the little entertainment and awakening of interest, demanded every hour, for the thousand things that overcome ennui, the mortal enemy of a spiritual little person, for these Innstetten will make poor provision.  He will not leave her in the midst of an intellectual desert; he is too wise and has had too much experience in the world for that, but he will not specially amuse her either.  And, most of all, he will not even bother to ask himself seriously how to go about it.  Things can go on thus for a while without doing much harm, but she will finally become aware of the situation and be offended.  And then I don’t know what will happen.  For gentle and yielding as she is, she has, along with these qualities, a certain inclination to fly into a fury, and at such times she hazards everything.”