After breakfast, therefore, she started at once for the house in the
Windberg-gasse, leaving her father still in his bed. She walked very
quick, looking neither to the right nor the left, across the bridge,
along the river-side, and then up into the straight ugly streets of the
New Town. The distance from her father's house was nearly two miles,
and yet the journey was made in half an hour. She had never walked so
quickly through the streets of Prague before; and when she reached the
end of the Windberg-gasse, she had to pause a moment to collect her
thoughts and her breath. But it was only for a moment, and then the
bell was rung.
Yes; her aunt was at home. At ten in the morning that was a matter of
course. She was shown, not into the grand drawing-room, which was only
used on grand occasions, but into a little back parlour which, in spite
of the wealth and magnificence of the Zamenoys, was not so clean as the
room in the Kleinseite, and certainly not so comfortable as the Jew's
apartment. There was no carpet; but that was not much, as carpets in
Prague were not in common use.
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