A bell summoned him to dinner at one o’clock, and he found the Frau Professor’s guests assembled in the drawing-room.  He was introduced to her husband, a tall man of middle age with a large fair head, turning now to gray, and mild blue eyes.  He spoke to Philip in correct, rather archaic English, having learned it from a study of the English classics, not from conversation; and it was odd to hear him use words colloquially which Philip had only met in the plays of Shakespeare.  Frau Professor Erlin called her establishment a family and not a pension; but it would have required the subtlety of a metaphysician to find out exactly where the difference lay.  When they sat down to dinner in a long dark apartment that led out of the drawing-room, Philip, feeling very shy, saw that there were sixteen people.  The Frau Professor sat at one end and carved.  The service was conducted, with a great clattering of plates, by the same clumsy lout who had opened the door for him; and though he was quick it happened that the first persons to be served had finished before the last had received their appointed portions.  The Frau Professor insisted that nothing but German should be spoken, so that Philip, even if his bashfulness had permitted him to be talkative, was forced to hold his tongue.  He looked at the people among whom he was to live.  By the Frau Professor sat several old ladies, but Philip did not give them much of his attention.  There were two young girls, both fair and one of them very pretty, whom Philip heard addressed as Fraulein Hedwig and Fraulein Cacilie.  Fraulein Cacilie had a long pig-tail hanging down her back.  They sat side by side and chattered to one another, with smothered laughter:  now and then they glanced at Philip and one of them said something in an undertone; they both giggled, and Philip blushed awkwardly, feeling that they were making fun of him.  Near them sat a Chinaman, with a yellow face and an expansive smile, who was studying Western conditions at the University.  He spoke so quickly, with a queer accent, that the girls could not always understand him, and then they burst out laughing.  He laughed too, good-humouredly, and his almond eyes almost closed as he did so.  There were two or three American men, in black coats, rather yellow and dry of skin:  they were theological students; Philip heard the twang of their New England accent through their bad German, and he glanced at them with suspicion; for he had been taught to look upon Americans as wild and desperate barbarians.

Afterwards, when they had sat for a little on the stiff green velvet chairs of the drawing-room, Fraulein Anna asked Philip if he would like to go for a walk with them.