Sanin stealthily watched how Gemma behaved to her betrothed; it was
the first time he had seen them together. _She_ was quiet and simple
in her manner, but rather more reserved and serious than usual; _he_
had the air of a condescending schoolmaster, permitting himself and
those under his authority a discreet and decorous pleasure. Sanin saw
no signs in him of any marked attentiveness, of what the French call
'_empressement_,' in his demeanour to Gemma. It was clear that Herr
Klueber considered that it was a matter settled once for all, and
that therefore he saw no reason to trouble or excite himself. But
his condescension never left him for an instant! Even during a long
ramble before dinner about the wooded hills and valleys behind Soden,
even when enjoying the beauties of nature, he treated nature itself
with the same condescension, through which his habitual magisterial
severity peeped out from time to time. So, for example, he observed
in regard to one stream that it ran too straight through the glade,
instead of making a few picturesque curves; he disapproved, too, of
the conduct of a bird--a chaffinch--for singing so monotonously.
Gemma was not bored, and even, apparently, was enjoying herself; but
Sanin did not recognise her as the Gemma of the preceding days; it
was not that she seemed under a cloud--her beauty had never been more
dazzling--but her soul seemed to have withdrawn into herself. With her
parasol open and her gloves still buttoned up, she walked sedately,
deliberately, as well-bred young girls walk, and spoke little.
Emil, too, felt stiff, and Sanin more so than all. He was somewhat
embarrassed too by the fact that the conversation was all the time
in German. Only Tartaglia was in high spirits! He darted, barking
frantically, after blackbirds, leaped over ravines, stumps and roots,
rushed headlong into the water, lapped at it in desperate haste, shook
himself, whining, and was off like an arrow, his red tongue trailing
after him almost to his shoulder. Herr Klueber, for his part, did