alth
and an aristocratic house, a really aristocratic one, to which Prince
Frederick Charles will come for an elk or grouse hunt, or where the
old Emperor will call and have a gracious word for every lady, even
for the younger ones. And then when we are in Berlin I am for court
balls and gala performances at the Opera, with seats always close by
the grand central box."

"Do you say that out of pure sauciness and caprice?"

"No, mama, I am fully in earnest. Love comes first, but right after
love come splendor and honor, and then comes amusement--yes,
amusement, always something new, always something to make me laugh or
weep. The thing I cannot endure is _ennui_."

"If that is the case, how in the world have you managed to get along
with us?"

"Why, mama, I am amazed to hear you say such a thing. To be sure, in
the winter time, when our dear relatives come driving up to see us and
stay for six hours, or perhaps even longer, and Aunt Gundel and Aunt
Olga eye me from head to foot and find me impertinent--and Aunt Gundel
once told me that I was--well, then occasionally it is not very
pleasant, that I must admit. But otherwise I have always been happy
here, so happy--"

As she said the last words she fell, sobbing convulsively, at her
mother's feet and kissed her hands.

"Get up, Effi. Such emotions as these overcome one, when one is as
young as you and facing her wedding and the uncertain future. But now
read me the letter, unless it contains something very special, or
perhaps secrets."

"Secrets," laughed Effi and sprang to her feet in a suddenly changed
mood. "Secrets! Yes, yes, he is always coming to the point of telling
me some, but the most of what he writes might with perfect propriety
be posted on the bulletin board at the mayor's office, where the
ordinances of the district council are posted. But then, you know,
Geert is one of the councillors."

"Read, read."

"Dear Effi: The nearer we come to our wedding day, the more scanty
your letters grow. When the mail arrives I always look first of all
for your handwriting, but, as you know, all in vain, as a rule, and
yet I did not ask to have it otherwise. The workmen are now in the
house who are to prepare the rooms, few in number, to be sure, for
your coming. The best part of the work will doubtless not be done till
we are on our journey. Paper-hanger Madelung, who is to furnish
everything, is an odd original. I shall tell you about him the next
time. Now I