He told himself so as he passed beneath the escutcheon through the heavy
open door with its iron ornaments. He was expected, the steward told
him, but he arched his broad breast as if preparing for a wrestling
match, pulled his mustache still longer, and went up the stairs.




CHAPTER XVI.

The spacious, lofty sitting-room which Seitz Siebenburg entered looked
very magnificent. Gay Flanders tapestries hung on the walls. The
ceiling was slightly vaulted, and in the centre of each mesh of the net
designed upon it glittered a richly gilded kingfisher from the family
coat of arms. Bear and leopard skins lay on the cushions, and upon the
shelf which surrounded three sides of the apartment stood costly vases,
gold and silver utensils, Venetian mirrors and goblets. The chairs and
furniture were made of rare woods inlaid with ebony and mother of pearl,
brought by way of Genoa from Moorish Spain. In the bow window jutting
out into the street, where the old grandmother sat in her armchair, two
green and yellow parrots on brass perches interrupted the conversation,
whenever it grew louder, with the shrill screams of their ugly voices.

Siebenburg found all the family except Wolff and the twins. His wife was
half sitting, half reclining, on a divan. When Seitz entered she raised
her head from the white arm on which it had rested, turned her oval face
with its regular features towards him, and gathered up the fair locks
which, released from their braids, hung around her in long, thick
tresses. Her eyes showed that she had been weeping violently, and as her