“Scandalous! Scandalous!” confirmed Frau von Janík.
“Did you notice yesterday how this our pure dove kept on refusing to play?” started again the burgomistress, “and how she ran away? She had bites of conscience in decent society. She found the Jacobin somewhere in the woods. Birds of a feather . . .”
Just then the clock began to whirr, like a sick man who is about to cough, and then it struck eleven.
“Oh, it is already eleven!” The burgomistress jumped up. “Dinner time!” The ladies all jumped up. The burgomistress opened the door. Clotild, with burning face and sparkling eyes wide open, almost fell into the room. The burgomistress smiled.
“Adieu!” the ladies bid good-bye and went out.
“Clotild, that is not proper. You must not listen behind the door,” began the lady of the house.
