"'Listen, my friend,' I said earnestly, and took hold of the flowing silk sleeves of her dress. 'It will be for your young lady's best good if you are parted from her. This much I know, that Professor Mattoni has left the girl quite without means, and it is now high time she learned to put on her shoes and stockings alone. A poor demoiselle, of citizen's rank, needs no lady's maid. She must learn to work and to make herself useful.'
"'Oh, Heaven!' sobbed the little dried-up woman, 'I thought she was to be a guest in this house, and you will make a servant of her.'
"A harsh answer was at my tongue's end. Had her tenderness for the girl made this woman perfectly crazy? At any rate, she was not to be reasoned with. 'Go down-stairs,' said I, in vexation, 'and carry your complaint to the master. He will know better, at least, how to make you comprehend what sort of a position Susanna Mattoni is to occupy here.'
"She dried her tears, seized a candle, and flew to the mirror, bustled about with comb and brush, and spread over her yellow face something from various little jars. I began to feel a real horror of the old woman, with her artifices. Now she tied her cap-strings afresh, pulled from the trunk a lace-edged handkerchief, and holding it theatrically in her hand, said she was ready to pay her respects to the master.
"'Were you formerly on the stage?' I asked, wondering at her red, full cheeks.
"'For ten years, Mademoiselle!' she replied; 'I played the gay, her mother'--she pointed to Susanna--'the tragic lovers. Oh, it was glorious, that acting together!'
"What she further related I did not understand. 'Merciful Heaven!' I faltered, as I opened the door softly and showed her out into the hall, 'what has Klaus brought upon us, in his kind-heartedness?'
"I sat still by the girl's bed, and looked at the young face. God only knew in what slough this fair flower had grown! It was clear that the old woman must go away, if anything was ever to be made of the girl; please God it might not be too late!
"The light from the candles scarcely sufficed to light up the nearest objects. Dense obscurity lay in the corners, but the oil-portrait of the Mischief-maker was feebly illuminated, and her black eyes seemed to give me a demoniacal look. A vague fear came over me; involuntarily I folded my hands in prayer: 'O Lord, Thy ways are wonderful! Lead us gently, let not the peace go out from us that has dwelt so long beneath this roof, let no second Mischief-maker have crossed this threshold, preserve the old, sacred bond between Klaus and Anna Maria. Amen!'