ed?"

She got up and kissed him on the forehead. "Of course I am. Only you
must not find fault with me. An easy step it is not, and from now on
our life will be different."

"I can stand it. There is a good rape crop and in the autumn I can
hunt an occasional hare. I still have a taste for red wine, and it
will taste even better when we have the child back in the house. Now I
am going to send the telegram."

* * * * *

Effi had been in Hohen-Cremmen for over six months. She occupied the
two rooms on the second floor which she had formerly had when there
for a visit. The larger one was furnished for her personally, and
Roswitha slept in the other. What Rummschuettel had expected from this
sojourn and the good that went with it, was realized, so far as it
could be realized. The coughing diminished, the bitter expression that
had robbed Effi's unusually kind face of a good part of its charm
disappeared, and there came days when she could laugh again. About
Kessin and everything back there little was said, with the single
exception of Mrs. von Padden--and Gieshuebler, of course, for whom old
Mr. von Briest had a very tender spot in his heart. "This Alonzo, this
fastidious Spaniard, who harbors a Mirambo and brings up a
Trippelli--well, he must be a genius, and you can't make me believe
he isn't." Then Effi had to yield and act for him the part of
Gieshuebler, with hat in hand and endless bows of politeness. By virtue
of her peculiar talent for mimicry, she could do the bows very well,
although it went against the grain, because she always felt that it
was an injustice to the dear good man.--They never talked about
Innstetten and Annie, but it was settled that Annie was to inherit
Hohen-Cremmen.

Effi took a new lease on life, and her mother, who in true womanly
fashion was not altogether averse to regarding the affair, painful
though it was, as merely an interesting case, vied with her father in
expressions of love and devotion.

"Such a good winter we have not had for a long time," said Briest.
Then Effi arose from her seat and stroked back the sparse hairs from
his forehead. But beautiful as everything seemed from the point of
view of Effi's health, it was all illusion, for in reality the disease
was gaining ground and quietly consuming her vitality. Effi again
wore, as on the day of her betrothal to Innstetten, a blue and white
striped smock with a loose belt, and when she walked up