That same hour Roswitha moved into the house with her few possessions and established herself in the little alcove.  When the day was over she went to bed early and, tired as she was, fell asleep instantly.

The next morning Effi inquired how she had slept and whether she had heard anything.

“What?” asked Roswitha.

“Oh, nothing.  I just meant some sound as though a broom were sweeping or some one were sliding over the floor.”

Roswitha laughed and that made an especially good impression upon her young mistress.  Effi had been brought up a Protestant and would have been very much alarmed if any Catholic traits had been discovered in her.  And yet she believed that Catholicism affords the better protection against such things as “that upstairs” * * *

All soon began to feel at home with one another, for Effi, like most country noblewomen of Brandenburg, had the amiable characteristic of liking to listen to such little stories as those for which the deceased widow, with her avarice, her nephews and their wives, afforded Roswitha an inexhaustible fund of material.  Johanna was also an appreciative listener.

Often, when Effi laughed aloud at the drastic passages, Johanna would deign to smile, but inwardly she was surprised that her Ladyship found pleasure in such stupid stuff.  This feeling of surprise, along with her sense of superiority, proved on the whole very fortunate and helped to avoid quarrels with Johanna about their relative positions.  Roswitha was simply the comic figure, and for Johanna to be jealous of her would have been as bad as to envy Rollo his position of friendship.

Thus passed a week, chatty and almost jolly, for Effi looked forward with less anxiety than heretofore to the important coming event.  Nor did she think that it was so near.  On the ninth day the chattering and jollity came to an end.  Running and hurrying took their place, and Innstetten himself laid aside his customary reserve entirely.  On the morning of the 3d of July a cradle was standing by Effi’s bed.  Dr. Hannemann joyously grasped the young mother’s hand and said:  “We have today the anniversary of Koeniggraetz; a pity, that it is a girl.  But the other may come yet, and the Prussians have many anniversaries of victories.”  Roswitha doubtless had some similar idea, but for the present her joy over the new arrival knew no bounds.  Without further ado she called the child “little Annie,” which the young mother took as a sign.  “It must have been an inspiration,” she said, “that Roswitha hit upon this particular name.”  Even Innstetten had nothing to say against it, and so they began to talk about “little Annie” long before the christening day arrived.