“Oh, don’t speak of that, Roswitha.”

The conversation ended here and was never afterward resumed.  But even though Effi avoided speaking to Roswitha about Annie, down deep in her heart she was unable to get over that meeting and suffered from the thought of having fled from her own child.  It troubled her till she was ashamed, and her desire to meet Annie grew till it became pathological.  It was not possible to write to Innstetten and ask his permission.  She was fully conscious of her guilt, indeed she nurtured the sense of it with almost zealous care; but, on the other hand, at the same time that she was conscious of guilt, she was also filled with a certain spirit of rebellion against Innstetten.  She said to herself, he was right, again and again, and yet in the end he was wrong.  All had happened so long before, a new life had begun—­he might have let it die; instead poor Crampas died.

No, it would not do to write to Innstetten; but she wanted to see Annie and speak to her and press her to her heart, and after she had thought it over for days she was firmly convinced as to the best way to go about it.

The very next morning she carefully put on a decent black dress and set out for Unter den Linden to call on the minister’s wife.  She sent in her card with nothing on it but “Effi von Innstetten, nee von Briest.”  Everything else was left off, even “Baroness.”  When the man servant returned and said, “Her Excellency begs you to enter,” Effi followed him into an anteroom, where she sat down and, in spite of her excitement, looked at the pictures on the walls.  First of all there was Guido Reni’s Aurora, while opposite it hung English etchings of pictures by Benjamin West, made by the well known aquatint process.  One of the pictures was King Lear in the storm on the heath.

Effi had hardly finished looking at the pictures when the door of the adjoining room opened and a tall slender woman of unmistakably prepossessing appearance stepped toward the one who had come to request a favor of her and held out her hand.  “My dear most gracious Lady,” she said, “what a pleasure it is for me to see you again.”  As she said this she walked toward the sofa and sat down, drawing Effi to a seat beside her.

Effi was touched by the goodness of heart revealed in every word and movement.  Not a trace of haughtiness or reproach, only beautiful human sympathy.  “In what way can I be of service to you?” asked the minister’s wife.

Effi’s lips quivered.  Finally she said:  “The thing that brings me here is a request, the fulfillment of which your Excellency may perhaps make possible.  I have a ten-year-old daughter whom I have not seen for three years and should like to see again.”

The minister’s wife took Effi’s hand and looked at her in a friendly way.