they were directed, and said with feigned composure:
"One goes to Hohen-Cremmen."

"I understand that," said Roswitha.

Johanna was not a little astonished at this remark. "His Lordship does
not write to Hohen-Cremmen ordinarily."

"Oh, ordinarily? But now--Just think, the porter gave me _this_
downstairs only a moment ago."

Johanna took the paper and read in an undertone a passage marked with
a heavy ink line: "As we learn from a well informed source, shortly
before going to press, there occurred yesterday morning in the
watering place Kessin, in Hither Pomerania, a duel between Department
Chief von Innstetten of Keith St. and Major von Crampas. Major von
Crampas fell. According to rumors, relations are said to have existed
between him and the Department Chief's wife, who is beautiful and
still very young."

"What don't such papers write?" said Johanna, who was vexed at seeing
her news anticipated. "Yes," said Roswitha, "and now the people will
read this and say disgraceful things about my poor dear mistress. And
the poor major! Now he is dead!"

"Why, Roswitha, what are you thinking of anyhow? Ought he _not_ to be
dead? Or ought our dear gracious master to be dead?"

"No, Johanna, our gracious master, let him live, let everybody live. I
am not for shooting people and can't even bear the report of the
pistol. But take into consideration, Johanna, that was half an
eternity ago, and the letters, which struck me as so strange the
moment I saw them, because they had a red cord, not a ribbon, wrapped
around them three or four times and tied--why, they were beginning to
look quite yellow, it was so long ago. You see, we have been here now
for over six years, and how can a man, just because of such old
things--"

"Ah, Roswitha, you speak according to your understanding. If we
examine the matter narrowly, you are to blame. It comes from the
letters. Why did you come with the chisel and break open the sewing
table, which is never permissible? One must never break open a lock in
which another has turned a key."

"Why, Johanna, it is really too cruel of you to say such a thing to my
face, and you know that _you_ are to blame, and that you rushed half
crazy into the kitchen and told me the sewing table must be opened,
the bandage was in it, and then I came with the chisel, and now you
say I am to blame. No, I say--"

"Well, I will take it back, Roswitha. But you must not come to me and
say: 'the poor major!' What d