When Johanna had left the room Effi locked her door, looked into the mirror for a moment and then sat down again, and wrote:  “I leave tomorrow by the boat, and these are farewell lines.  Innstetten expects me back in a few days, but I am not coming back—­why I am not coming back, you know—­it would have been better if I had never seen this corner of the earth.  I implore you not to take this as a reproach.  All the fault is mine.  If I look at your house—­your conduct may be excusable, not mine.  My fault is very grievous, but perhaps I can overcome it.  The fact that we were called away from here is to me, so to speak, a sign that I may yet be restored to favor.  Forget the past, forget me.  Your Effi.”

She ran hastily over the lines once more.  The strangest thing to her was the avoidance of the familiar “Du,” but that had to be.  It was meant to convey the idea that there was no bridge left.  Then she put the letter into an envelope and walked toward a house between the churchyard and the corner of the forest.  A thin column of smoke arose from the half tumbled down chimney.  There she delivered the letter.

When she reached home Innstetten was already there and she sat down by him and told him about Gieshuebler and the sal volatile.  Innstetten laughed.  “Where did you get your Latin, Effi?”

The boat, a light sailing vessel (the steamers ran only in the summer) left at twelve.  A quarter of an hour before, Effi and Innstetten were on board; likewise Roswitha and Annie.

The baggage was bulkier than seemed necessary for a journey of so few days.  Innstetten talked with the captain.  Effi, in a raincoat and light gray traveling hat, stood on the after deck, near the tiller, and looked out upon the quay and the pretty row of houses that followed the line of the quay.  Just opposite the landing stood the Hoppensack Hotel, a three-story building, from whose gable a yellow flag, with a cross and a crown on it, hung down limp in the quiet foggy air.  Effi looked up at the flag for a while, then let her eyes sink slowly until they finally rested on a number of people who stood about inquisitively on the quay.  At this moment the bell rang.  Effi had a very peculiar sensation.  The boat slowly began to move, and as she once more looked closely at the landing bridge she saw that Crampas was standing in the front row.  She was startled to see him, but at the same time was glad.  He, on the other hand, with his whole bearing changed, was obviously agitated, and waved an earnest adieu to her.  She returned his greeting in like spirit, but also with great friendliness, and there was pleading in her eyes.  Then she walked quickly to the cabin, where Roswitha had already made herself at home with Annie.  She remained here in the rather close rooms till they reached the point where the river spreads out into a sheet of water called the “Broad.”  Then Innstetten came and called to her to come up