Antonie von Schönau could never be called beautiful, but she had her
father's fine figure and a fresh, glowing face, with clear brown eyes.
Her nut-brown hair was laid in smooth braids around her head, and her
attire, although perfectly suitable for a girl of her station, was yet
quite simple. But Antonie was in the first bloom of youth, and that
charm outweighed all others. As she stepped out now, looking so fresh
and rosy and healthy, she was a daughter after Frau Regine's own heart,
and that lady immediately brought the strife to an end and gave her a
smiling nod.

"Father, the carriage is on its way back from the station," said the
young lady, in very deliberate, almost drawling tones. "It is at the
foot of the castle hill already, and Uncle Wallmoden will be here in
fifteen minutes."

"Bless me, they have driven quickly!" exclaimed her father, whose face
had cleared at the news. "Are the guest chambers in order?"

Toni nodded composedly, as if to say her duties were never neglected;
then, as her father left the terrace to watch the approach of the
guests, Frau von Eschenhagen, with a glance at the basket which the girl
carried on her arm, said:

"Well, Toni, you are always busy."

"I have been in the kitchen-garden, dear auntie. The gardener declared
there were no more ripe pears, so I went out to see for myself, and
picked a whole basket full."