Effi remained silent.

“Ems would work miracles.  But as you don’t care to go there—­and I understand your reasons—­drink the water here.  In three minutes you can be in the Prince Albrecht Garden, and even if the music and the costumes and all the diversions of a regular watering-place promenade are lacking, the water itself, you know, is the important thing.”

Effi was agreed, and Rummschuettel took his hat and cane, but stepped once more to the window.  “I hear people talking about a plan to terrace the Hill of the Holy Cross.  God bless the city government!  Once that bare spot yonder is greener—­A charming apartment!  I could almost envy you—­By the way, gracious Lady, I have been wanting for a long time to say to you, you always write me such a lovely letter.  Well, who wouldn’t enjoy that?  But it requires an effort each time.  Just send Roswitha for me.”

“Just send Roswitha for me,” Rummschuettel had said.  Why, was Roswitha at Effi’s?  Instead of being on Keith Street was she on Koeniggraetz Street?  Certainly she was, and had been for a long time, just as long as Effi herself had been living on Koeniggraetz Street.  Three days before they moved Roswitha had gone to see her dear mistress and that was a great day for both of them, so great that we must go back and tell about it.

The day that the letter of renunciation came from Hohen-Cremmen and Effi returned from Ems to Berlin she did not take a separate apartment at once, but tried living in a boarding house, which suited her tolerably well.  The two women who kept the boarding house were educated and considerate and had long ago ceased to be inquisitive.  Such a variety of people met there that it would have been too much of an undertaking to pry into the secrets of each individual.  Such things only interfered with business.  Effi, who still remembered the cross-questionings to which the eyes of Mrs. Zwicker had subjected her, was very agreeably impressed with the reserve of the boarding house keepers.  But after two weeks had passed she felt plainly that she could not well endure the prevailing atmosphere of the place, either the physical or the moral.  There were usually seven persons at the table.  Beside Effi and one of the landladies—­the other looked after the kitchen—­there were two Englishwomen, who were attending the university, a noblewoman from Saxony, a very pretty Galician Jewess, whose real occupation nobody knew, and a precentor’s daughter from Polzin in Pomerania, who wished to become a painter.  That was a bad combination, and the attempts of each to show her superiority to the others were unrefreshing.  Remarkable to relate, the Englishwomen were not absolutely the worst offenders, but competed for the palm with the girl from Polzin, who was filled with the highest regard for her mission as a painter.  Nevertheless Effi, who assumed a passive attitude, could have withstood the pressure of this intellectual atmosphere if it had not been combined with the air