"In that case then,I think I shall stay at home."He said no more,and walked up and down the room with an air of annoyance.The bell of the street-door rang.He stopped and looked at me again.
"Visitors?"I said.
He was obliged to answer me."Friends of mine,David,who are coming to see the house."I was just sufficiently irritated by his persistence in keeping up the mystery to set him the example of speaking plainly.
"Madame Fontaine and her daughter?"I said.
He turned quickly to answer me,and hesitated.At the same moment,the door was opened by the sour old housekeeper,frowning suspiciously at the two elegantly-dressed ladies whom she ushered into the room.
If I had been free to act on my own impulse,I should certainly (out of regard for Mr.Engelman)have refrained from accompanying the visitors when they were shown over the house.But Minna took my arm.I had no choice but to follow Mr.Engelman and her mother when they left the room.
Minna spoke to me as confidentially as if I had been her brother.
"Do you know,"she whispered,"that nice old gentleman and mamma are like old friends already.Mamma is generally suspicious of strangers.Isn't it odd?And she actually invites him to bring his pipe when he comes to see us!He sits puffing smoke,and admiring mamma--and mamma does all the talking.Do come and see us soon!I have nobody to speak to about Fritz.
Mamma and Mr.Engelman take no more notice of me than if I was a little dog in the room."As we passed from the ground floor to the first floor,Madame Fontaine's admiration of the house rose from one climax of enthusiasm to another.
Among the many subjects that she understood,the domestic architecture of the seventeenth century seemed to be one,and the art of water-color painting soon proved to be another.
"I am not quite contemptible as a lady-artist,"I heard her say to Mr.
Engelman;"and I should so like to make some little studies of these beautiful old rooms--as memorials to take with me when I am far away from Frankfort.But I don't ask it,dear Mr.Engelman.You don't want enthusiastic ladies with sketch-books in this bachelor paradise of yours.
I hope we are not intruding on Mr.Keller.Is he at home?""No,"said Mr.Engelman;"he has gone out.
Madame Fontaine's flow of eloquence suddenly ran dry.She was silent as we ascended from the first floor to the second.In this part of the house our bedrooms were situated.The chamber in which I slept presented nothing particularly worthy of notice.But the rooms occupied by Mr.
Keller and Mr.Engelman contained some of the finest carved woodwork in the house.
It was beginning to get dark.Mr.Engelman lit the candles in his own room.The widow took one of them from him,and threw the light skillfully on the different objects about her.She was still a little subdued;but she showed her knowledge of wood-carving by picking out the two finest specimens in the room--a wardrobe and a toilet-table.
"My poor husband was fond of old carving,"she explained modestly;"what I know about it,I know from him.Dear Mr.Engelman,your room is a picture in itself.What glorious colors!How simple and how grand!Might we--"she paused,with a becoming appearance of confusion.Her voice dropped softly to lower tones."Might we be pardoned,do you think,if we ventured to peep into Mr.Keller's room?"She spoke of "Mr.Keller's room"as if it had been a shrine,approachable only by a few favored worshippers."Where is it?"she inquired,with breathless interest.I led the way out into the passage,and threw open the door without ceremony.Madame Fontaine looked at me as if I had committed an act of sacrilege.
Mr.Engelman,following us with one of his candles,lit an ancient brass lamp which hung from the middle of the ceiling."My learned partner,"he explained,"does a great deal of his reading in his bedroom,and he likes plenty of light.You will have a good view when the lamp has burnt up.
The big chimney-piece is considered the finest thing of that sort in Frankfort."The widow confronted the chimney-piece,and clasped her hands in silent rapture.When she was able to speak,she put her arm round Minna's waist.
"Let me teach you,my love,to admire this glorious work,"she said,and delivered quite a little lecture on the merits of the chimney-piece."Oh,if I could but take the merest sketch of it!"she exclaimed,by way of conclusion."But no,it is too much to ask."She examined everything in the room with the minutest attention.Even the plain little table by the bed-side,with a jug and a glass on it,did not escape her observation.
"Is that his drink?"she asked,with an air of respectful curiosity."Do you think I might taste it?"Mr.Engelman laughed."It's only barley-water,dear lady,"he said."Our rheumatic old housekeeper makes as few journeys as possible up and down stairs.When she sets the room in order in the evening,she takes the night-drink up with her,and so saves a second journey.""Taste it,Minna,"said the widow,handing the glass to her daughter.
"How refreshing!how pure!"
Mr.Engelman,standing on the other side of her,whispered in her ear.Iwas just behind them,and could not help hearing him."You will make me jealous,"he said;"you never noticed _my_night-drink--_I_have beer."The widow answered him by a look;he heaved a little sigh of happiness.
Poor Mr.Engelman!
Minna innocently broke in on this mute scene of sentiment.
