a pretty porcelain stove had taken its place. The walls were
covered with new paper from Paris. You could there contemplate all
the public buildings of that city,--Notre Dame, Saint Sulpice, and
the Tuileries. Long red curtains, thrown over gilt rods, hung above
the high windows. All this splendor was admired.

"I prefer the antique sitting-room, after all," said Sophie; "the
old chimney-piece and the leather hangings. One fairly lives again
in the days of chivalry!"

"Yes, you have always been a little foolish!" said Jakoba, but
softened her words by a smile and a pressure of the hand. "No, the
hall is more lively. Ah!" she suddenly exclaimed; "Tine has placed
her work-box in the window! That is disorder!"

"O, is that the celebrated work-box, with its many fool's tricks?"
inquired Wilhelm, as he laughingly took it up.

"There are neither fools nor tricks in the box," said Jakoba. "But
only look in the mirror in the lid, and then you will perhaps see
one of the two."

"No rude speeches, my young lady!" said Wilhelm; "I am an
academical burgher!"

The Kammerjunker now entered, attired in the same riding dress in
which we made his acquaintance. He had visited his hay and oats,
had seen after the people who were working at the fences, and had
been also in the plantation. It had been a warm forenoon.