And so Frau Frohmann had raised her prices, and had acknowledged herself to all the world to have been beaten in her enterprise. There are, however, certain misfortunes which are infinitely¹ worse in their anticipation{92} than in their reality; and this, which had been looked forward to as a terrible humiliation², was soon found to be one of them. No note of triumph was sounded; none at least reached her ear. Indeed, it so fell out that those with whom she had quarrelled for awhile seemed now to be more friendly with her than ever. Between her and Hoff things were so sweet that no mention was ever made of money. The meat was sent and the bills were paid with a reticence³ which almost implied that it was not trade, but an amiable⁴ giving and taking of the good things of the world. There had never been a word of explanation with Seppel; but he was late and early about the carts and the furniture, and innumerable little acts of kindnesses made their way up to the mother and her many children. Suse and Josephine had never been so brisk, and the eggs had never been so fresh or the vegetables so good. Except from the working of her own mind, she received no wounds.

But the real commencement of the matter did not take place till the following summer,—the commencement as regarded the public. The circulars were sent out, but to such letters no answers are returned; and up to the following June the Frau was ignorant what effect the charge would have upon the coming of her customers. There were times at which she thought that her house would be left desolate⁵, that the extra charge would turn away from her the hearts of her visitors, and that in this way she would be compelled to retire to Schwatz.{93}

“Suppose they don’t come at all,” she said to Peter one day.

“That would be very bad,” said Peter, who also had his fears in the same direction.

“Fritz Schlessen thinks it won’t make any difference,” said the Frau.

“A zwansiger and a half a day does make a difference to most men,” replied Peter uncomfortably.

This was uncomfortable; but when Schlessen came out he raised her spirits.

“Perhaps old Weiss won’t come,” he said, “but then there will be plenty in his place. There are houses like the Peacock all over the country now, in the Engadine, and the Bregenz, and the Salzkammergut; and it seems to me the more they charge the fuller they are.”

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