“You might better get a pug-dog, my dear!”
The baroness flashed an angry glance at her husband. Her lips opened to make response to his offensive levity, but she thought better of it. She held the statuette carefully and swished disdainfully past the baron in the direction of a rounded niche in the wall. She was just about to deposit her charming burden when suddenly, as if stung by a serpent, she recoiled and extended a finger towards her husband. The dust of many years accumulated in the niche had left its gray trace.
“Look!” she cried.
“Look!” he repeated, pointing towards the ceiling. From the bouquet of fantastic flowers there hung a long, floating cobweb on which an ugly spider was distinctly swinging.
“You wouldn’t listen to my warnings. Well, here you have an introduction to that heavenly rural idyll of which you raved.”
The baroness drew down her lips in disgust at the spider and in displeasure at her husband’s remark. Violently she rang the bell on the table. The fat footman in his purple livery appeared.
“Tell them down below to send some girl here to wipe down the dust and cobwebs,” the lovely mistress, said to him with frowning brow. She sat down opposite her husband, who was smiling rather maliciously, and gazed with vexation at her beloved statuette.
A considerable time passed, but no maid appeared.
