o make any
special effort to show it. It had almost become a rule with him to
retire from his wife's room to his own when Frederick brought the
lamp. "I have a difficult matter yet to attend to." With that he went.
To be sure, the portiere was left thrown back, so that Effi could hear
the turning of the pages of the document or the scratching of his pen,
but that was all. Then Rollo would often come and lie down before her
upon the fireplace rug, as much as to say: "Must just look after you
again; nobody else does." Then she would stoop down and say softly:
"Yes, Rollo, we are alone." At nine Innstetten would come back for
tea, usually with the newspaper in his hand, and would talk about the
Prince, who was having so much annoyance again, especially because of
that Eugen Richter, whose conduct and language beggared all
description. Then he would read over the list of appointments made and
orders conferred, to the most of which he objected. Finally he would
talk about the election and how fortunate it was to preside over a
district in which there was still some feeling of respect. When he had
finished with this he asked Effi to play something, either from
_Lohengrin_ or the _Walkuere_, for he was a Wagner enthusiast. What had
won him over to this composer nobody quite knew. Some said, his
nerves, for matter-of-fact as he seemed, he was in reality nervous.
Others ascribed it to Wagner's position on the Jewish question.
Probably both sides were right. At ten Innstetten relaxed and indulged
in a few well-meant, but rather tired caresses, which Effi accepted,
without genuinely returning them.

Thus passed the winter. April came and Effi was glad when the garden
behind the court began to show green.

She could hardly wait for summer to come with its walks along the
beach and its guests at the baths. * * * The months had been so
monotonous that she once wrote: "Can you imagine, mama, that I have
almost become reconciled to our ghost? Of course, that terrible night,
when Geert was away at the Prince's house, I should not like to live
through again, no, certainly not; but this being always alone, with
nothing whatever happening, is hard, too, and when I wake up in the
night I occasionally listen to see if I can hear the shoes, shuffling
up above, and when all is quiet I am almost disappointed and say to
myself: If only it would come back, but not too bad and not too
close!"

It was in February that Effi wrote these words and