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She would come into the kitchen, and sit down on a bench and talk: about a silk dress she had seen for sale; about the fine compliments Court Councillor Finkeldey had paid her; about the love affairs of these and the divorce proceedings of those; about Frau Feistelmann’s pearls, remarking that she would give ten years of her life if she also had such pearls.
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.
She was the first to see Daniel; she exclaimed: “There is my husband. Now don’t get angry, Daniel; it’s nothing but that idiotic plaster mask.” Councillor Finkeldey, a white-bearded man, nodded at Daniel, or at least at the spot where he was standing, with marked enthusiasm. It was his way of paying homage to Dorothea: everything she said he accompanied with an inspired nod of approval.
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