my compartment on the train—­for one learns to do such things—­in any position and even on my left side, and I don’t even need to unfasten my dress.  To be sure, I am never laced tight; chest and lungs must always be free, and, above all, the heart.  Yes, most gracious Lady, that is the prime essential.  And then, speaking of sleep in general, it is not the quantity that tells; it is the quality.  A good nap of five minutes is better than five hours of restless turning over and over, first one way, then the other.  Besides, one sleeps marvelously in Russia, in spite of the strong tea.  It must be the air that causes it, or late dinners, or because one is so pampered.  There are no cares in Russia; in that regard Russia is better than America.  In the matter of money the two are equal.”  After this explanation on the part of Miss Trippelli, Effi desisted from further warnings that it was time to go.  When twelve o’clock came, the guests, who had meanwhile developed a certain degree of intimacy, bade their host a merry and hearty good night.

* * * * *

Three days later Gieshuebler’s friend brought herself once more to Effi’s attention by a telegram in French, from St. Petersburg:  “Madame the Baroness von Innstetten, nee von Briest.  Arrived safe.  Prince K. at station.  More taken with me than ever.  Thousand thanks for your good reception.  Kindest regards to Monsieur the Baron.  Marietta Trippelli.”

Innstetten was delighted and gave more enthusiastic expression to his delight than Effi was able to understand.

“I don’t understand you, Geert.”

“Because you don’t understand Miss Trippelli.  It’s her true self in the telegram, perfect to a dot.”

“So you take it all as a bit of comedy.”

“As what else could I take it, pray?  All calculated for friends there and here, for Kotschukoff and Gieshuebler.  Gieshuebler will probably found something for Miss Trippelli, or maybe just leave her a legacy.”

Gieshuebler’s party had occurred in the middle of December.  Immediately thereafter began the preparations for Christmas.  Effi, who might otherwise have found it hard to live through these days, considered it a blessing to have a household with demands that had to be satisfied.  It was a time for pondering, deciding, and buying, and this left no leisure for gloomy thoughts.  The day before Christmas gifts arrived from her parents, and in the parcels were packed a variety of trifles from the precentor’s family:  beautiful queenings from a tree grafted by Effi and Jahnke several years ago, beside brown pulse-warmers and knee-warmers from Bertha and Hertha.  Hulda only wrote a few lines, because, as she pretended, she had still to knit a traveling shawl for X.  “That is simply not true,” said Effi, “I’ll wager, there is no X in existence.  What a pity she cannot cease surrounding herself with admirers who do not exist!”