“And then,” the corpulent husband added, “two young girls cannot be called ‘the beautiful Es’ unpunished in houses which contain a less comely T, S, and H. Just think of the Katerpecks.  There—­thank the saints!—­they are taking leave already.”

“Don’t say anything about them!” said Frau Christine, shaking her finger threateningly.  “They are good, well-behaved children.  It was pretty Ermengarde Muffel yonder by the fireplace who, after the dance at the Town Hall, assailed your godchild most spitefully with her sharp tongue.  My friend Frau Nutzel heard her.”

“Ah, that dance!” said the magistrate, sighing faintly.  “But the child was certainly distinguished in no common way.  The Emperor Rudolph himself looked after her as if an angel had appeared to him.  You yourself heard his sister’s opinion of her.  Her husband, the old Burgrave, and his son, handsome Eitelfritz—­But you know all that.  Half would have been enough to stir ill-will in many a heart.”

“And to turn her pretty little head completely,” added his wife.

“That, by our Lady, Christine,” protested the magistrate, “that, at least, did not happen.  It ran off from her like water from an oil jar.  I noticed it myself, and the abbess—­”

“Your sister,” interrupted the matron thoughtfully, “she was the very one who led her into the path that is not suited for her.”

“No, no,” the magistrate eagerly asserted.  “God did not create a girl, the mere sight of whom charms so many, to withdraw her from the gaze of the world.”

“Husband! husband!” exclaimed Frau Christine, tapping his arm gaily.  “But there go the Schurstabs and Ebners.  What a noise there is in the street below!”

Her husband looked out of the bow window, pointed down, and asked her to come and stand beside him.  When she had risen he passed his arm around the slenderest part of her waist, which, however, he could not quite clasp, and eagerly continued:  “Just look!  One would think it was a banquet or a dance.  The whole street is filled with sedan-chairs, servants, and torch-bearers.  A few hours ago the constables had hard work to prevent the deluded people from destroying the house of the profligate Es, and now one half of the distinguished honourable Councillors come to pay their homage.  Do you know, dear, what pleases the most in all this?”

“Well?” asked Frau Christine, turning her face towards him with a look of eager enquiry, which showed that she expected to hear something good.  But he nodded slightly, and answered: 

“We members of patrician families cling to old customs; each wants to keep his individuality, as he would share or exchange his escutcheon with no one.  Then, when one surpasses the rest in external things, whatever name they may bear, no one hastens to imitate him.  We men are independent, rugged fellows.  But if the heart and mind of any one of us are bent upon something really good and which may be said to be pleasing in the sight of God, and he successfully executes it, then, Christine, then—­I have noticed it in a hundred instances—­then the rest rush after him like sheep after the bellwether.”