All
the fault is mine. If I look at your house--_your_ conduct may be
excusable, not mine. My fault is very grievous, but perhaps I can
overcome it. The fact that we were called away from here is to me, so
to speak, a sign that I may yet be restored to favor. Forget the past,
forget me. Your Effi."

She ran hastily over the lines once more. The strangest thing to her
was the avoidance of the familiar "Du," but that had to be. It was
meant to convey the idea that there was no bridge left. Then she put
the letter into an envelope and walked toward a house between the
churchyard and the corner of the forest. A thin column of smoke arose
from the half tumbled down chimney. There she delivered the letter.

When she reached home Innstetten was already there and she sat down by
him and told him about Gieshuebler and the _sal volatile_. Innstetten
laughed. "Where did you get your Latin, Effi?"

The boat, a light sailing vessel (the steamers ran only in the summer)
left at twelve. A quarter of an hour before, Effi and Innstetten were
on board; likewise Roswitha and Annie.

The baggage was bulkier than seemed necessary for a journey of so few
days. Innstetten talked with the captain. Effi, in a raincoat and
light gray traveling hat, stood on the after deck, near the tiller,
and looked out upon the quay and the pretty row of houses that
followed the line of the quay. Just opposite the landing stood the
Hoppensack Hotel, a three-story building, from whose gable a yellow
flag, with a cross and a crown on it, hung down limp in the quiet
foggy air. Effi looked up at the flag for a while, then let her eyes
sink slowly until they finally rested on a number of people who stood
about inquisitively on the quay. At this moment the bell rang. Effi
had a very peculiar sensation. The boat slowly began to move, and as
she once more looked closely at the landing bridge she saw that
Crampas was standing in the front row. She was startled to see him,
but at the same time was glad. He, on the other hand, with his whole
bearing changed, was obviously agitated, and waved an earnest adieu to
her. She returned his greeting in like spirit, but also with great
friendliness, and there was pleading in her eyes. Then she walked
quickly to the cabin, where Roswitha had already made herself at home
with Annie. She remained here in the rather close rooms till they
reached the point where the river spreads out into a sheet of water
called the "Broad." The