some fresh coffee," begged Anna; "the others will be coming
down soon, and must not have cold stuff." Her voice grew tender at the
mere mention of "the others." For the princess and Axel, both of whom
she liked so much, it never took on those tender tones, as the princess
had already noted. There was nothing in either of them to appeal to that
side of her nature, the tender, mother side, which is in all good women
and most bad ones. They were her friends, staunch friends, she felt, and
of course she liked and respected them; but they were sturdy, capable
people, firmly planted on their own feet, able to battle successfully
with life--as different as possible from these helpless ones who needed
her, whom she had saved, to whom she was everything, between whom and
want and sorrow she was fixed as a shield.

Two of the helpless ones came in at that moment, with frosty,
early-morning faces. Anna put the vision she had seen at the kitchen
door from her mind, and went to meet them with happy smiles and
greetings. Frau von Treumann did her best to respond warmly, but it was
very early to be enthusiastic, and at that hour of the day she was
accustomed to being a little cross. Besides, she had had no coffee yet,
and her hostess evidently had, and that made a great difference to one's
sentiments. The baroness looked pinched and bloodless; she was as frigid
as ever to Anna, said nothing about having seen her before, and seemed
to want to be left alone. So that the mutual gazing into each other's
eyes did not, after all, take place.

The princess waited to see that they had all they wanted, and then went
out rattling her keys; and after an interval, during which Anna
chattered cheerful and ungrammatical German, and the window was shut,
and warming food eaten, Frau von Treumann became amiable and began to
talk.

She drew from her pocket a letter and a photograph. "This is my son,"
she said. "I brought it down to show you. And I have had a long letter
from him already. He never neglects his mother. Truly a good son is a
source of joy."

"I suppose so," said Anna.

The baroness turned her eyes slowly round and fixed them on the
photograph. "Aha," she thought, "the son again. Last night the son, this
morning the son--always the son. The excellent Treumann loses no time."

"He is good-looking, my Karlchen, is he not?"

"Yes," said Anna. "It is a becoming uniform."

"Oh--becoming! He looks adorable in it. Especially on his horse