Johanna brought the tea, and Innstetten drank it.  He was tired to death from the overexertion and went to sleep.

The next morning he was up in good season.  He saw Annie, spoke a few words with her, praised her for being a good patient, and then went to the Ministry to make a report to his chief of all that had happened.  The minister was very gracious.  “Yes, Innstetten, happy is the man who comes out of all that life may bring to us whole.  It has gone hard with you.”  He approved all that had taken place and left the rest to Innstetten.

It was late in the afternoon when Innstetten returned home and found there a few lines from Wuellersdorf.  “Returned this morning.  A world of experiences—­painful, touching—­Gieshuebler particularly.  The most amiable humpback I ever saw.  About you he did not say so very much, but the wife, the wife!  He could not calm himself and finally the little man broke out in tears.  What strange things happen!  It would be better if we had more Gieshueblers.  But there are more of the other sort—­Then the scene at the home of the major—­dreadful.  Excuse me from speaking about it.  I have learned once more to be on my guard.  I shall see you tomorrow.  Yours, W.”

Innstetten was completely staggered when he read the note.  He sat down and wrote a few words in reply.  When he had finished he rang the bell.  “Johanna, put these letters in the box.”

Johanna took the letters and was on the point of going.

“And then, Johanna, one thing more.  My wife is not coming back.  You will hear from others why.  Annie must not know anything about it, at least not now.  The poor child.  You must break the news to her gradually that she has no mother any more.  I can’t do it.  But be wise about it, and don’t let Roswitha spoil it all.”

Johanna stood there a moment quite stupefied, and then went up to Innstetten and kissed his hand.

By the time she had reached the kitchen her heart was overflowing with pride and superiority, indeed almost with happiness.  His Lordship had not only told her everything, he had even added the final injunction, “and don’t let Roswitha spoil it all.”  That was the most important point.  And although she had a kindly feeling and even sympathy for her mistress, nevertheless the thing that above all else occupied her was the triumph of a certain intimate relation to her gracious master.

Under ordinary conditions it would have been easy for her to display and assert this triumph, but today it so happened that her rival, without having been made a confidante, was nevertheless destined to appear the better informed of the two.  Just about at the same time as the above conversation was taking place the porter had called Roswitha into his little lodge downstairs and handed her as she entered a newspaper to read.  “There, Roswitha, is something that will interest you.  You can bring it back to me later.  It is only the Foreigners’ Gazette, but Lena has already gone out to get the Minor Journal.  There will probably be more in it.  They always know everything.  Say, Roswitha, who would have thought such a thing!”