It was a great mansion, that corner house! Carved figures of elephants and camels of the olden days were around the windows, but the Count was fonder of modern times, and anything good they brought, whether from drawing room, cellar, or garret.
"I believe," said the Porter's wife, "that the grander folks really are the less stuck-up they are. How kind and plain the old Count is! And he can talk just like you and me! You won't find that at the General's. There was George yesterday, head over heels with delight, because the Count treated him so graciously; and I'm much the same way today, after talking with that great man. Wasn't it lucky now that we didn't have George serve and apprenticeship? That boy has talent."
"But he must have outside help," said the father.
"Well, he's got that help now," said the mother. "The Count spoke right out, plain and honest."
"But it was at the General's that it was all started," said the father. "We must thank them, too."
"We can do that, too, " said the mother, "though there's not much to thank them for, in my opinion. I'll thank our Lord first of all, and thank Him all the more now that Little Emilie is getting better again."
Emilie kept getting better, and George kept getting better; inside of a year he won the small silver medal, and later the large one.
"It would have been better, after all, if he had learned a trade!" said the Porter's wife, and cried. "We would have kept him here then. Why does he have to go off to Rome? I shall never see him any more, even if he comes home again, and that he'll never do, the sweet child!"
"But it's to his good fortune and glory," said the father.
"An, it's all very well to talk that way, my friend!" said the mother. "You talk, but you don't mean a word of it. You're just as heartbroken as I am!"
And it was all true, both about the sorrow and the departure. It was, however, a great piece of luck for the young man, said everyone.
And then there was a round of farewells, also at the General's. His wife did not appear, for she had one of her bad headaches. At parting the General related his only anecdote - what he had said to the prince, and how the prince had replied to him, "You are incomparable!" Then he gave George his hand, a flabby old hand.
Emilie gave George her hand, too, and looked almost sad; but George was the saddest.
Time passes, when one is busy, but it also passes when one is idle. The time is equally long, though not equally profitable. It was profitable to George, and never seemed long, except when he thought of those at home and how they were getting along, in the drawing room and in the cellar. Yes, he had news of them, and a great deal may be folded up in a letter - bright sunshine and dark, heavy days. One letter told that his father had died, and so his mother was alone now. Emilie had been an angel of comfort at the time, having come down to her, wrote his mother. And as for herself, she added, she had received permission to keep her husband's job.
The General's wife kept a diary; in it were entered every ball, every party, she had attended, every visit she had paid or received. The diary was illustrated with the cards of diplomats and other noblemen. She was very proud of her diary; it increased in size season after season, through many great headaches, but also through many bright evenings - that is, court balls.
Emilie went to her first court ball. Her mother wore pink, with black Spanish lace, while Emilie's dress was white, so fine and pure! Green ribbons fluttered like leaves in her curly blonde locks, and she was crowned with a wreath of white water lilies. Her eyes were so blue and clear, her mouth so beautiful and red; she looked like a little mermaid, as beautiful as you could imagine. Three princes danced with her; that is, one after the other. Her mother had no headache for a week.
But the first ball wasn't the last of the season. The pace became too much for Emilie, and so it was well that summer brought rest and a change of air. The family was invited to the old Count's castle.