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One afternoon Dorothea, with an open letter in her hand, came rushing into Daniel’s room, where he was working. “Listen, Daniel, Frau Feistelmann invites me over to a party at her house to-morrow. May I go?” “You are disturbing me, my dear. Can’t you see you are upsetting me?” asked Daniel reproachfully.
Frau Feistelmann made an indignant face, Edward Hahn breathed through his nose, Herr Samuelsky, a fat man with a red beard, made a contemptuous remark, Dorothea, vexed and annoyed, stood and looked on while the tears took their unrestrained course.
“Oh, yes,” replied Dorothea hastily, “it is a present from my friend, Emmy Büttinger.” “Who’s she?” “You don’t know her? Why, she is the sister of Frau Feistelmann. You must help me,” she said, turning to Benda, “for you must know all about this kind of things.
Then she toured the small towns of central Germany, and was received everywhere with the greatest enthusiasm. But what of it? How much critical acumen is to be found in such places? One evening she was at the home of a certain Frau Feistelmann, a woman whose past had some connection with nearly every scandal of the city. While there she met an actor by the name of Edmund Hahn.
Agnes, scarcely looking up, reeled off the names: Councillor Finkeldey, Herr von Ginsterberg, Herr Samuelsky, Herr Hahn, a strange man whose name she did not know, Frau Feistelmann and her sister. Daniel remained silent for a while. Then he went up to Agnes, put his hand under her chin, lifted her head, and murmured: “And you? And you?” Agnes frowned, and was afraid to look into his face.
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