, Gieshuebler, Alonzo Gieshuebler," said Innstetten, laughingly and
almost boisterously handing the card with the foreign-sounding first
name to Effi. "Gieshuebler. I forgot to tell you about him. Let me say
in passing that he bears the doctor's title, but does not like to be
addressed by it. He says it only vexes the real doctors, and I presume
he is right about that. Well, I think you will become acquainted with
him and that soon. He is our best number here, a bel-esprit and an
original, but especially a man of soul, which is after all the chief
thing. But enough of these things; let us sit down and drink our tea.
Where shall it be? Here in your room or over there in mine! There is
no other choice. Snug and tiny is my cabin."

Without hesitating she sat down on a little corner sofa. "Let us stay
here today; you will be my guest today. Or let us say, rather: Tea
regularly in my room, breakfast in yours. Then each will secure his
rights, and I am curious to know where I shall like it best."

"That will be a morning and evening question."

"Certainly. But the way it is put, or better, our attitude toward it,
is the important thing."

With that she laughed and cuddled up to him and was about to kiss his
hand.

"No, Effi, for heaven's sake, don't do that. It is not my desire to be
a person looked up to with awe and respect. I am, for the inhabitants
of Kessin, but for you I am--"

"What, pray?"

"Ah, let that pass. Far be it from me to say what."

CHAPTER VII

The sun was shining brightly when Effi awoke the next morning. It was
hard for her to get her bearings. Where was she? Correct, in Kessin,
in the house of District Councillor von Innstetten, and she was his
wife, Baroness Innstetten. Sitting up she looked around with
curiosity. During the evening before she had been too tired to examine
very carefully all the half-foreign, half-old-fashioned things that
surrounded her. Two pillars supported the ceiling beam, and green
curtains shut off from the rest of the room the alcove-like sleeping
apartment in which the beds stood. But in the middle a curtain was
either lacking or pulled back, and this afforded her a comfortable
orientation from her bed. There between the two windows stood the
narrow, but very high, pier-glass, while a little to the right, along
the hall wall, towered the tile stove, the door of which, as she had
discovered the evening before, opened into the hall in the
old-fashioned way. Sh