woman covered with freckles and cross-eyed, the wife of the postmaster, a thin woman with a waxen face, and Frau von Janík, a poor widow, the owner of four houses,—all of the women in cloaks, beneath which their white petticoats showed, and all with their hair done up in a hurry. Towards one side, resting her arm upon the piano, stood the thin, faded daughter of the lady of the house.
The burgomistress stopped in the middle of the room, without saying a word. Her eyes met in a twinkle the eyes of all the ladies, and she knowingly shook her head three times, as if to say: “There we have it! A nice affair!” and she silently placed her chair in the semicircle.
“A scandal!” suddenly exclaimed Frau von Fischmeister, and all shook their heads. The full bosom of the burgomistress heaved high: “I said so! I am always right,—I have a good nose! Now we are all disgraced! The whole town is disgraced!
