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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..760ce97 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63947 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63947) diff --git a/old/63947-0.txt b/old/63947-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5c91ad5..0000000 --- a/old/63947-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5781 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rue and Roses, by Angela Langer - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: Rue and Roses - -Author: Angela Langer - -Annotator: William Leonard Courtney - -Release Date: December 03, 2020 [EBook #63947] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUE AND ROSES *** - -RUE AND ROSES - -BY ANGELA LANGER - -WITH INTRODUCTION BY W. L. COURTNEY - -NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -RUE AND ROSES - -ANGELA LANGER - - -Copyright, 1913 -BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -You will like Anna, the heroine of "Rue and Roses," when you get -to know her. But perhaps it will take some time before she becomes -familiar to you, partly because she is intensely Teutonic, partly, -also, because the little history she gives about herself strikes the -ordinary reader as fragmentary. She certainly is very German. You -picture her to yourself with her large eyes and her, apparently, placid -exterior. Very likely she is wearing a shawl round her shoulders and -sits apart from other girls, for ever analyzing herself and her own -states of consciousness. That is the characteristic thing about her. -She is intensely self-analytic, and from the earliest moment when -she began to think at all, she has ceaselessly occupied herself with -her own soul-states and traversed one or two heart-crises. Having -nothing much external to interest her, she is driven to introspection, -and becomes, as a matter of course, a little priggish and pedantic, -exaggerating the importance of conditions about which the normal -healthy outdoor girl of another race never troubles herself. - -Yet she is worth knowing for all that. She may be a little tiresome, -but she is a good, honest girl, who has not had the best of luck, who, -indeed, has come from a home where everything seems opposed to her own -instincts and inclinations. Her father's business is perpetually on -the down-grade, and his little commercial enterprises invariably fail, -and leave him worse off than he was before. The mother, of course, -is always on the verge of tears, because it is her painful duty to -try and make both ends meet--a feat which she is eternally unable -to accomplish. From one place they drift to another, and Anna's few -friends of childhood are left behind, or if she sees them again they -look at her askance, because her father has been in prison. And there -is a brother, too, who would be a severe affliction even in the most -favourable circumstances. - -Meanwhile Anna pursues her own way, very humble, very insignificant, -but always trying to do her best. She is a governess, and endures -the usual fate of governesses, being either bullied or made love -to--bullied by the mistress, and on one occasion compromisingly made -love to by the master. One solace she has--the writing of poems. A -characteristic German trait this! And so she sits and dreams, for she -is the most sentimental little person you ever came across--sentimental -to the full extent of Teutonic capacity, with her head full of -Weltschmerz and Schwärmerei. Of course she sighs for the Prince -Charming who is to come and redeem her from her servitude, a being of -impossible virtues, noble and distinguished, and excessively handsome, -the highborn husband for whom Cinderella dreams while she sweeps out -the kitchen and cleans the pots and pans. - -Nothing very significant so far. Indeed, Anna would seem to be the -very best example of the ordinary German maiden, ruthlessly exploring -her own limited soul and dreaming of the moon. Then suddenly an event -occurs which changes her crude immaturity into something more real. -She comes across a man of about thirty, who smokes his cigar, as she -herself says, "with elegant ease," and who discourses about many -things--about intoxication, about remorse, about books, about art, and -about her poems. Gradually the intimacy grows, and Anna's whole life, -and even her literary style, becomes eloquent because the love of her -life has dawned on her horizon. "By-and-by I began to think of him -whether I saw him or not; his face, his figure, rose like a blazing -question from the midst of the strange, wistful dreams that I had -dreamt all my life, and something that had lain within me, dull and -senseless like a trance, woke, wondered, and trembled into joy." - -She has now got something to occupy her mind apart from the analysis -of her own soul. Her poems, naturally, become love poems. Her thoughts -are no longer turned inward, but outward, craving for his presence and -companionship. But the reader must not believe for a moment that he -is going to peruse the ordinary love story. No, the nameless hero--a -rather cryptic personage, suggesting now and again Manfred, certainly a -little Byronic in his presentment, who calls himself "a wolf in sheep's -clothing"--has no intention of making Anna either his mistress or his -wife. It puzzles her a little what the man means, or what her life is -henceforth to become. On one occasion she has a strange vision. She -is in a graveyard at night-time. "And as I stood there staring into -the darkness above and beyond the graves, I saw a vision--a circle of -flames, growing into enormous size, embracing all the world except -myself, leaving me outside and alone." Anna is like little Mowgli in -Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Book," who stands desolate and alone in -the springtime when all the animal creation with whom he had consorted -so amicably are inspired by that passionate feeling which comes to them -in the opening year, but which leaves the little human boy untouched -and forlorn. Anna, too, has realized her loneliness. She is doomed -to be the Eternal Virgin, the predestinate spinster. In a world in -which the feminine race largely predominates there are not lovers and -husbands enough to go round, and she must remain outside that charmed -circle--the leaping flames of love and passion, which seem to embrace -all the world except herself. - -Of course, she does not realize this at first. The truth only comes -home to her after she has left her native land and lived, not too -happily, in London. Because "he" had spoken enigmatically, always with -a sense that there was something dangerous in their companionship, she -had thought it best to leave him, he, too, assenting that that was -the best course to adopt. Then, after some weary months of exile, the -impulse comes upon her, too strong to be resisted, to write to her -lover, not the ordinary letter, but one containing a strong, insistent -question. "Do you think that I may come back?" she asked him. A long -answer arrives: "If you had remained here, I do not know what might -have happened; if you come back, I know what will happen. But the -question is, may it come thus? You are not a girl of the ordinary type; -you belong to the race of Asra, the people who die when they love. -And, because I have known that from the first, I have done for you what -I have never done for another woman yet--namely, got hold of the head -of the beast within, turned it round sharply, and laughed at it." - -That, then, is the end of it. A very different end from what the girl -had imagined, but which she now recognizes as inevitable, and not -otherwise than consolatory. For which is more glorious for a girl--that -a man should make her his wife, or make her his most beautiful dream -and his lasting desire? As for him, he will doubtless lead the man's -life, never at peace with himself, tasting every pleasure and getting -to know every disgust. "But above all pleasure and above all disgust -there will be the one longing of his soul, which had denied itself the -drink because of the dregs it knew to be at the goblet's bottom." This -renunciation becomes Anna's ideal, and she smiles to herself that -strange, wonderful smile "which only a woman knows who is willing to -take upon herself the heaviest burden for the sweet sake of love." - -Such is the life story of Anna, the heroine of "Rue and Roses." Very -simple, very sentimental, but with a rare charm for those who have the -wit to understand and the heart to feel, and written in a style of -much tenderness and felicity. Do not put it down because the earlier -portion may seem uninteresting. Read on to the finish, and you will -be rewarded; for this is the story of one who realized her mission, a -mission which falls to the lot of many women--a mission of loneliness -with occasional moments of inspiration. It is the history, not of -the eternal womanly, but of the eternal virginal. Anna is, like the -daughter of Jephthah, a predestined virgin, who does not, like her -Hebrew prototype, bewail her maidenhood among the mountains, but -accepts it with grave resignation as her lot in life. - -W. L. COURTNEY. - -_March 27, 1913._ - - - - -RUE AND ROSES - - - - -Chapter I - - -My parents kept a little shop, and adjoining it was our small lodging. -The shop contained lots of different things, such as candles, soap, -brushes, and many other articles, all of which I regarded with profound -respect. Each time that Christmas came round my father used to receive -a large wooden chest, of which the opening and unpacking was my -greatest joy. Sometimes my father would show no hurry about this to me -so sacred a ceremony, and then I used to remind him of it. At last, -however, he declared that he was going to open the chest, and after -that I got so excited that I hardly knew what to do. I asked whether I -might be permitted to help. But my father said that I was a bother and -in his way. Fearing that he might dismiss me altogether, I managed to -sit still for two minutes; but then I could bear it no longer. I went -to fetch a pair of pinchers and a huge hammer, and stood in readiness, -long before the chest was opened, with the tools in my hands. Then I -watched my father with breathless admiration as he forced a chisel in -between the chest and the lid, and very often burst the lid. My heart -beat fast for a moment when the white, soft shavings became visible, -and the mere sight of the small, brown cardboard-boxes, which my father -lifted carefully out of the chest, made me tremble with delight. But -the most joyous moment came when I was asked to get a pair of scissors -to cut the string which tied the cardboard-boxes. I walked on tip-toe -and spoke softly. Then the unpacking of the brown boxes began, and with -loving eyes I looked at the figures made out of chocolate or sugar. -There were riders with faces so bold that I hardly dared to think of -eating them; angels with limbs so dainty and wings so transparent that -I thought them to be real; and many other beautiful things. Broken -pieces were found sometimes, and my father gave them to me. Although -I longed to eat them I did not do so at once, but fetched a twig, or -anything that might resemble a Christmas-tree, and fastened the rider, -who, with his helmet cut off, looked less fierce now, the colour-bearer -who had lost his flag, or the angel with but one arm, upon it. After I -had watched them dangling about for a while I took them off again, and -there can be but little doubt as to their final fate. My brother joined -me in all these things, especially in eating. I remember a Christmas -Eve, when I was five years old and my brother four. Father Christmas -had presented me with a small wooden doll that pleased me enormously. -It had no hair, nor could it move its limbs much, but I hardly noticed -that. I sat on the freshly washed floor and played happily. My brother -got a knife with but one blade, the kind that is used in our country -to cut the grapes with. The next day, when my mother was about to wash -us--an operation which was performed on the table--my brother told me -that he did not consider my doll to be beautiful, whereupon I answered -that I did not think his knife was a real knife. "Shall I," he asked, -when my mother had left us to fetch something out of the kitchen, -"shall I try it on your leg?" I don't believe I liked the idea; but -too proud to go back on what I had stated, I allowed it at once. After -that I felt a quick pain, and a few drops of blood showed on the white -cloth whereon we sat. When I saw the blood, however, I began to cry, -and my mother returned to the room. My brother was frightened too, but -he laughed nevertheless, and asked me whether I did believe now that -his knife was a real knife. After my mother had bandaged up my leg, she -gave my brother a sound whipping with a birch that Father Christmas had -left on the previous day for naughty children. - - - - -Chapter II - - -One day all our furniture was moved and put on a furniture-van. When -everything had gone, my mother took my brother and myself to another -house, where we recognized our furniture at once. As it had grown late, -my mother gave us our supper and put us to bed. Next morning we were -both frightfully busy. We examined the little courtyard, and found a -brooklet flowing right through it. Then we discovered a narrow wooden -plank leading over to the other side. For a few moments we dared not -speak, but looked at each other with grave yet beaming eyes. At last my -brother broke the silence, and spoke in a soft, awe-struck voice: - -"Shall we?" - -"I don't know." - -"Why shouldn't we?" - -"I am afraid." - -"Coward!" - -After these last words my brother looked round cautiously and, nobody -being in sight, prepared to go over. Seeing his determination I -summoned my vanishing courage and held on to his coat, a thing of -which he graciously approved. The other side of the yard was certainly -much prettier than the one we had just quitted. It is true that it was -paved like the other side, but in a corner I discovered some flowers -which I thought were the most wonderful flowers that I had ever seen. -They grew on stalks, much taller than I was, and were of a colour that -reminded me of cinnamon, as I had seen it in my father's shop. But the -most wonderful part about them, and that I only found out afterwards, -was that they closed themselves up in the evening, and opened again -in the morning. That corner with the flowers now began to play a very -important part in my life. Whilst my brother was busy over catching -flies, or launching a paper boat into eternity, I sat amongst my -flowers and never for a moment grew tired of looking at them. They did -not, however, belong to us, but were the property of some other people -who lived in the same house as we did. And that was the reason why my -brother did not pluck them, as he would have done without doubt had -they belonged to us. - -One day, when we played in the yard as usual, my father appeared all -of a sudden and called us to him. It was not often that he left his -shop in the daytime, and therefore we felt much surprised to see him. -He told us that we had got a little sister. The news electrified us, -and we ran into the house. But as soon as we beheld the scrap of a -being that my mother handled so carefully, we calmed down considerably -and regarded her with critical looks. She was much too small to take -part in any of our games, and to bring her over the plank was utterly -impossible. So we did not for a long time care much about her, and -everything remained as it had always been. My brother and I were -together constantly, and I believe indispensable to each other. - -When I was six years old my mother sent me to school. I think I liked -it very much because of the school-bag, and the things it contained. -A book--a single mysterious book--a slate, a slate-pencil. The -slate-pencil had a beautiful red paper wrapped round it, and mother -told me not to drop it, as it might break. On the day appointed, she -took me there herself. My brother also wanted to come, but he was -told that he was far too small. He had to stay at home, and I left -exceedingly proud. Confronted with the schoolhouse, however, I grew -very still. It was a large, beautiful building, with walls so calm and -dignified that I was struck with awe. My mother brought me into my -classroom, and told me to be a very good girl. Then she left me, and -I was alone with the other children. My place was right in front, and -next to me sat a little girl with very long, fair plaits, the daughter -of one of the teachers. The fact of having so aristocratic a neighbour -made me more silent still. I hardly dared to look up; but that -embarrassment soon passed away. She herself broke the spell by telling -me that she, too, was going to be a schoolmistress some day. Then I -told her about our yard, the brooklet, and the plank. She listened very -attentively to all I had to tell her, and soon we became great friends. -Her name was Hilda. Next to Hilda sat the daughter of a baker, who was -called Leopoldine. She also became my friend. - -My life had now changed completely. At school we arranged where to -meet in the afternoon, and every day grew to be a great event. It -happened sometimes that my new friends paid me a visit. Then we played -in the yard, and I felt proud of my flowers. But I don't think my -little friends really cared for them as much as I did. Both Hilda -and Leopoldine were fond of fishing out all sorts of rubbish from -the brooklet, and climbing up the wall that separated the houses. -Leopoldine came to see me more often than Hilda, who, as I knew and -perfectly understood, was not allowed to have many friends. It was for -that reason that I hardly ever saw her anywhere but at school. She was -the one I loved best. Our meetings, however, were usually held round -the church. The church was placed in the centre of a large square, -and possessing many a nook and corner, made an ideal spot for all our -games. My brother was as a matter of course a very constant member. -Another little boy joined us now and again, and then my brother was -most happy. He liked boys decidedly better than girls; "girls," he used -to say, "are silly." - -By-and-by I got to know different people who lived in the village. -Leopoldine took me one day to friends of hers, whose little house was -situated close to the grave-yard. The man was a dyer by trade, and -I thought him very interesting. He had a long beard that was raven -black, and hands not a shade lighter. His hands were so black because -of his trade. His wife was stout of figure and red and round of face. -In one of the rooms there stood a cupboard with glass doors. It -contained glasses that were never used, and cups that had flowers and -names painted on them. The cupboard soon claimed my whole attention. -Whenever we went there again after that first visit, the dyer's wife -gave us an apple or perhaps a piece of white bread. She was very kind -to both of us, but did not often speak to me. It was chiefly my friend -to whom she addressed her remarks. But that I did not mind in the -least. I was so happy to sit in front of that cupboard and look at the -things. At first I thought everything equally perfect, but by-and-by -my attention was concentrated upon one particular piece. This was a -small statue of the Holy Mother, dressed all in white except the veil, -which was edged light blue. One evening a wonderful thing happened. -The dyer's wife talked with Leopoldine, who, by-the-by, fidgeted about -on her chair in the fashion that children do, and I stared at the Holy -Mother. She seemed to be even more beautiful than ever, and just when -I was wonderingly thinking whether or not I, too, might look as pretty -with a white frock and the very same veil on, our hostess stepped up -to the cupboard, singled out the object of my admiration, and placed -herself in front of me. I trembled with delight. Never had I been so -close to it. The glass doors had, though kept spotlessly clean, always -hidden parts of its dainty beauty from my longing eyes. And now, there -stood the woman holding it in her large, red hands, so that the Holy -Mother looked whiter than it had done before. - -"Do you know anything about the Holy Mother?" - -Thinking that she noticed how much I loved the little figure, I grew -hot with shame. At last I nodded and said that she was the Mother of -Jesus. And then the most wonderful thing happened to me. Pressing the -Holy Mother into my hands, the woman said: "There, you may have it." I -cannot tell how I got home that day. All I know is that I came home too -late, and that my father whipped me with one of those much regretted -Christmas birches. - - - - -Chapter III - - -Meanwhile another little sister had arrived, and (I believe it was for -that reason) our lodging grew too small. The furniture-van stopped once -more in front of our door, and two men carried everything away. Our -new lodging was most beautiful. At least I thought so. It consisted of -four rooms and a large kitchen. My mother took a maid to help her with -the house-work, and my father employed a young fellow in his shop. The -business did well, better than it had done in the beginning, and my -parents began to be regarded as "well-to-do" people. - -The house we now occupied stood almost next to the house of my friend -Hilda, a circumstance deeply appreciated by me. Once when she came -to see me, I showed her all over the place, and directed her special -attention to a few new pieces of furniture which my mother had bought -in order to furnish all the rooms. There was one room that my mother -called the "drawing-room," and of which I was extremely proud, -although it had nothing in it but a table, a few pictures and a cheap -flower-stand. - -Whenever I went into this "drawing-room" I felt as if I was entering a -church. The same sensation took hold of me when I showed Hilda in, and -I was not surprised that she left the room immediately, believing her -to be dazzled and overwhelmed. - -There was also a courtyard belonging to the house; it was a very large -one with chestnut-trees growing in it. The trees were old and had -wide-spreading branches. We children loved the place and enjoyed it -with all our hearts. In one of the corners there stood a carriage, or -rather a manure-cart, which attracted us greatly. One day we pretended -to have a wedding. Leopoldine's brother was the bridegroom and I the -bride. I twisted a bunch of buttercups into a wreath and took a towel -for a veil. After that we took our seats in the cart and pretended -to drive to church. With the assistance of the bridegroom I got out -again, and the priest (one of the children) performed the ceremony. We -had seen many weddings in the village church and did everything in the -proper way. When the decisive question was put at last, we both looked -very solemn and said gravely, "I will." - -On another day I quarrelled with Hilda, I must have said or done -something that she did not like, and it was evident that she wanted -to make me cross. It happened towards sunset. Hilda stood with her -back against the wall of the house opposite to ours and looked at me -scornfully. Her mouth was twisted contemptuously, her whole attitude -expressed deliberate challenge. For one brief moment we looked at each -other like two embittered opponents, but all at once I felt confounded -by her words: - -"Your drawing-room looks ridiculous." - -Never, never before did I feel so utterly unhappy, and I turned away -with burning cheeks. My mother was about to call me in, so I hastened -towards her. "Mother," I cried, half choked with tears, "Hilda said our -drawing-room looks ridiculous." My mother smiled, and as she took me up -the stairs into the little parlour, she said: "That does not matter, -dear." - -Like a child I soon forgot that incident, but afterwards whenever I -entered the room in question, I was struck with its emptiness, and -tried hard to understand how it was that I had ever found it beautiful; -and although my mother had bought a green cover for the table, the -reverential feeling that I had experienced so often returned no more. - -After a time I no longer liked to go to school, and I do not think -that I made any progress with my lessons. My exercises were done -only because I was afraid of getting punished. Ambition I had none. -Geography and history I did not care for, and doing sums I positively -hated. Furthermore, my teacher had found out that I had no voice and -consequently excluded me from singing. The only thing that I really -liked was to form sentences. But that subject we had only once a week, -and it was done in the following manner.--The teacher wrote with his -chalk different words on the blackboard, and we had to use them in -simple or compound sentences. There was not one word which I could not -have brought into a sentence somehow, whereas all the other children -sat silent, and never showed any aptitude for the subject. During the -rest of the lessons I was inattentive and tried continually to chat -with my neighbours. Very often I was punished. - -We were also taught scripture every Friday. A young priest whom we -called "catechist" came to the school and read the catechism to us. I -do not remember whether I behaved any better during that lesson, the -only thing I know is that I felt strangely moved when the tall figure -of the catechist, clad in a long black gown, entered our schoolroom -and took his seat with an air of dignity. In my opinion the young -catechist was a handsome man. His eyes were blue, his hair was thick -and brown, but his mouth was always shut tightly, and he struck me as -hard and proud. When I think of that time, I can see the schoolroom -again. None of the children were more than ten years old, and while we -sat perfectly still the catechist asked one question after another. - -"Who created the world?" Whereupon a young voice answered: - -"God created the world." - -"What does that mean--to create?" Another voice: - -"To create means to produce something out of nothing." - -"Must all people die?" - -"All people must die." - -These last words always occupied my thoughts, and constantly worried -me. Sometimes I woke at nights from my slumber, and imagined that I -heard the question, "Must all people die?" whereupon a voice answered: -"All people must die." After that I felt inexpressibly sad. I sat up -in my bed, listened to the gentle breathing of my sisters, and wondered -which of us would be the first to die. A maddening fear rushed to my -heart when I thought that my father and my mother had also to die some -day. I could not go to sleep again, but thought about what might happen -if such were the case, and suffered so intensely that I screamed aloud. -Then one of my parents came to my bed and tried to comfort me, thinking -that I had a nightmare. - -The summer always brought to us a most beautiful event. As soon as the -long school holidays began, my mother took us to relations of hers, -who lived at a distant village. The journey lasted six hours, and we -travelled in the post-coach. In reality one could not even call the -place a village, because there was only one house, the home of our -relations. It was a mill, and all around it stretched the glorious -woods of the lower parts of Austria, sometimes interrupted by lovely -meadows, where the grass used to grow to such a height that it towered -above our heads. Close by the mill flowed a clear, narrow brook, so -narrow in some places that we could quite easily jump over it, in -others so wide that we had to wade through it whenever we wanted to -cross. In front of the house there was a large kitchen-garden that -adjoined a still larger orchard, a spot full of ever new delights. -At one time an apple-tree, as if to tease us, would let a beautiful -apple fall to our feet; at another time the berries of a shrub would -at last begin to show their colouring, and then, again, a wild flower -that had opened overnight. At the very end of the garden there was -also a beehive. Although afraid of the bees we dared to approach them -cautiously, and even advanced to the back of the hive, where little -glass windows enabled us to observe the dear, diligent creatures quite -closely. - -Later on, when the children were many and my fathers business slack, -these visits had to cease owing to the fact that my parents could no -longer afford the price of the post-coach. But the memory of that -lovely, quiet spot, connected so closely with a sweet and careless -childhood, still arouses sudden sadness and makes me yearn for it. - -My mother used to take my brother and myself to church every Sunday, -and that place so lofty, so dark, so doleful, and always smelling -strongly of incense, made me strangely shy and still. My mother sat -upon one of the benches, but my brother and I had to stand with the -school children. We were right in front of the altar, and the priest, -together with the sacristan, had to pass us when they left the vestry. -The priest was the same priest who taught us scripture at school, and -I thought him even more handsome in his surplice, made of white lace. -As I never managed to remember when we were to kneel during the Mass, -I simply imitated the others; but no matter whether I knelt or stood -up, I always watched the priest, and followed all his movements. With a -feeling of profoundest reverence I looked at him, and saw how he mixed -the wine and drank it, how he swung the censer solemnly, how he prayed, -with folded hands, out of the holy book, and kissed it reverently at -the end.... - -My brother, as a matter of course, had also started school, and spent -most of the time with his schoolfellows. We were not so much together -now, but had, nevertheless, plenty of opportunity to quarrel; he grew -naughtier from day to day, and my poor mother was unable to manage him. -When my father came home in the evening I, in my little bedroom, could -hear my mother crying and declaring that she could stand it no longer. -Then my father used to grow angry and say that he could not possibly -undertake both the education of the children and his business. So -everything remained as it had been. - -When I was twelve years old a great change happened. My father sold -his business, and bought a house (including a business) in a distant -little town. Once more all our furniture was removed, but on this -occasion it was carried to the station. Strange to say we children -were not informed about it until the last hour, so that I had left the -church-square the previous evening in the usual manner and never said -good-bye to anyone. - -It was getting dark when we arrived at Hohenburg; a carriage drove us -home from the station, and my father showed us all the rooms of the -first floor. Another floor had been added according to my father's -orders, but he would not let us go upstairs that evening. My mother put -us to bed and told us not to forget our dreams, since dreams dreamt the -first night at a place one has never seen before come true. I listened -attentively to what my mother said, and on the morrow I pondered over -my dream. "Mother," I said, "I dreamt that we had gone back again to -Langenau." My mother smiled, shook her head, and said she did not think -that my dream could come true. - -The first days and weeks passed quickly, and were full of sweet -excitement. My brother and my sisters, as well as myself, made new -friends immediately, and I do not think that at this time I thought -much about my old friends. The people who lived in the house beside us -called my mother "landlady," and I believe my mother liked to hear -that. She also took a new maid, whom I thought to be a person of great -importance. Very often she used to tell me stories about men, and -confided in me her approaching marriage. Whenever she mentioned that -coming event she looked exceedingly happy and proud, so I came to the -conclusion that "to marry must be something beautiful," and wished to -marry too. I confessed it to our maid, but she said that I was not old -enough. - -"How old, then, must a girl be to be able to marry?" - -And to this question she replied: - -"I cannot say for certain; some girls marry early, some marry late." - -I decided to marry early. - -After we had been at the new place for a considerable time, I began -to notice that something was going wrong. I could see that my father -looked thoughtful, even sad, and that my mother cried often. Then my -father went away suddenly, and did not return for many weeks. When he -came back again, he looked pale and troubled, and my mother never -ceased to cry. - -One day I went into the little kitchen-garden and wanted to sit down on -an old chair which happened to be there. But another girl of my age, -who was the daughter of one of our tenants and had hitherto treated me -very politely, was already sitting on the chair. She did not get up -as I had expected her to do, but crossed her arms above her head and -looked at me sleepily. - -"Get up!" I demanded sullenly. - -"Why should I get up?" - -"Because I want to sit down." - -"Well, sit down on the ground." - -That answer made me terribly angry. - -"Get up!" I shouted, and stamped with my foot; "that chair belongs to -us!" - -The girl laughed, and after a while she said, still laughing: - -"Nothing whatever belongs to you; everything has been seized from your -people; all you have left is debts." - -Then she sprang to her feet, pushed the chair back with such violence -that it fell to the ground, and ran off. - -I stood like one stunned and could not for a while understand what she -had said; but then I remembered how often my mother cried, how sad my -father looked, and all at once my veil of ignorance was lifted. I went -back into the house, but as shyly and softly as if I were a criminal, -and sat down silently on a chair. My mother sat at the table with -the youngest child in her arms, and looked at me in surprise. I was -generally very noisy, and upset a chair three times before I sat down. - -"Have you quarrelled with someone?" she asked. - -"No; but I should like to know whether what everyone says is true." - -My mother trembled a little. - -"What nonsense! What does everyone say?" - -"That we have nothing left but debts." - -My mother got up from the chair and put the child on the bed; then she -pulled the table-cover straight, and stared hard at an empty corner of -the room. - -"By-the-by," she said, as if she was really thinking of something quite -different, "who said that?" - -When I had told her she sighed deeply. No other sound was heard in the -room. - -"Should you like to go back to Langenau?" she asked after a while. - -I felt surprised and delighted. Hilda, Leopoldine, the old church, and -lots of other things came into my thoughts and made me long for them -boundlessly. - -"Oh, mother," I cried, "it would make me so happy!" - -During the following week all our furniture was moved again and sent -away. We were all frightfully excited; only my father was quiet, and -looked grave and pale. We arrived at Langenau late in the evening, and -drove to a new lodging. The whole village seemed to be asleep, and -nobody saw our arrival. We had been away for a year. - -I did not like the new lodging; it was underground, and the water -dripped down the walls, leaving trails of a dark brown colour behind. I -could hear my mother say that the lodging was damp and unhealthy, and -that she had never thought one could become so poor. Then my father -answered that she must not lose courage, but have a little patience, -and he would try to find something better as soon as his business -proved to be satisfactory. They spoke for a long time upon this -subject, and I understood that the business in question was a new one, -and that most probably it would take a little while to get customers. - -My chief reason for thinking the lodging horrible was that we were a -long way from the house of my friend Hilda. Furthermore there was no -pretty courtyard, nor any other place in which we could run about and -play. Three other tenants lived in the same house, and my mother told -us to keep very quiet, because, if we made too much noise, the people -might complain about us to the landlord. - -As soon as breakfast was over, I wanted to run to the church-square, -partly to see whether everything was the same as it had been before, -and partly to speak, if possible, to my friends. Just as I was about to -close the door, my mother called me back. - -"Where do you want to go?" - -"I am going out." - -"That won't do," my mother's troubled voice rang; "the whole place -looks untidy, and you know that I have no maid. If you want to go out, -you must at least take the two little ones with you." - -"I will certainly not take them," I said, and tears filled my eyes. -"They are far too small for our games." - -"I am very sorry, but you will have to play something that the little -ones can play also." - -At first I would not consent, and decided to stay in; but as it was -nearly eleven o'clock, the time when I knew that my friends left the -school, I could resist no longer. I took the two little ones, not very -gently I believe, and went away. My sister was about two years old and -was able to walk, while my brother was still quite small and had to be -carried. My sister clung to my skirt, and so we walked along slowly, -much too slowly for my impatience. A few people, mostly those who were -about to go to their work in the vineyards, looked at me strangely, -spoke to each other, and laughed as they passed. I felt as if they -were laughing at me, and I was terribly ashamed because I thought they -all believed me to be the mother of the two children. It was very -foolish of me to think such a thing, but at that time I did not know -that a girl of my age could never be suspected of being the mother -of children; all I knew was that it was considered a disgrace for an -unmarried girl to have a child. My anger concentrated therefore on the -two innocent little creatures, and I felt very much inclined to beat -them. - -We got to the school at last, and I noticed with great satisfaction -that the lessons were not finished, and that I was likely to catch my -friends. After a few minutes I heard the great noise that was made when -the boys were getting ready to go. Then they appeared, pair after -pair, and my heart beat faster. After the boys came the girls. First -the very small ones, then the class I had been in. Hilda and Leopoldine -appeared at the same time, and I trembled with joy and excitement when -I saw them coming along in the gay, careless fashion characteristic of -children. My time seemed to have arrived. I stepped out of the corner -in which I had hidden myself, and called their names aloud. Both of -them turned round at once, and dragging my little sister behind me, I -ran towards them. - -"Anna!" they called, but then they looked at each other and kept -silent. I knew at once that something was the matter, and the blood -mounted into my cheeks. In order not to let them see my embarrassment I -controlled myself, and asked with apparent indifference: - -"Where shall we go?" - -"We are not allowed to speak to you," said Leopoldine at last; "your -father is locked up." - -"Was," corrected Hilda softly, and then they ran away before I even -knew what they meant. A little boy, whom I had seen in the company of -my brother many times before, came along, said something very rude as -he passed and put his tongue out at me. But what did that boy matter? -What did the whole world matter now? I stood as if I was dazed, and -might have stood there longer if my little brother had not begun to -cry. That made me conscious of a terrible shame and of a sharp pain in -my arm, and I felt that the child was heavy. I noticed also that it was -nearly dinnertime and knew that my mother was waiting for me. I called -my little sister, who had been ceaselessly picking up stones from the -ground, and, avoiding the crowded streets as much as I could, I made -for home. My mother was standing in front of our gate, and looking -searchingly up and down the street. Having caught sight of us she came -to meet me and took the boy from my arms. - -"Where have you been?" she asked; "you look hot." - -"I am terribly hungry," I said, and slipped into the house while my -mother followed slowly with the children. Soon afterwards we sat down -to dinner, and my mother was busily preparing the food for the little -ones. I helped her a little, handing her a fork, a spoon, or anything -that was beyond her reach. After a pause of some length my mother said: -"Did you see any of your friends?" - -"No," I replied without hesitation, hastily swallowing a large -mouthful. I could feel how the blood rushed back into my cheeks, not -because I had told a lie (I often told lies), but because I heard the -cruel words hum in my head again. - -"You are getting quite a big girl now," my mother continued after a -pause, "and you could make yourself very useful at home, if it were not -that you have to go to school again." - -A silly, incomprehensible fear immediately gripped me. Until that -moment I had not thought of having to go to school again. "Mother," I -said, and lifted up my arms imploringly, "pray do not send me to school -again." - -"You are getting more and more lazy; you ought to be ashamed of -yourself." - -"So I am," I answered rudely. - -My mother got up from the chair suddenly, and I thought that she was -going to beat me for such an impudent answer. But she did not beat me; -she bent down to one of the little ones and, with her face turned away, -told me to clear the things from the table. - -During our stay at Hohenburg I had scarcely learnt anything, and when -my mother took me to school the next day, the headmaster found that -out at once. He declared that I was not by any means able to join the -fourth class, but must take up the third class once more. My mother -never understood why I looked so exceedingly happy when the headmaster -told me that.... I was now at least spared the company of those "two." -The mere thought of them became unbearable to me. I decided never to -go near them again, and to avoid everything that could bring me into -touch with them. But if it happened now and then that we met during -the recreation, which we had all to spend out in the garden, I quickly -looked in another direction. Hilda and Leopoldine were together almost -constantly, and it was only sometimes that I met Hilda by herself. She -passed me then with eyes cast down, but inwardly I felt that she loved -me still and only did not speak because she was forbidden to do so. -At such moments I loved her more than I had ever done before; I even -thought of walking up to her and speaking to her again. But whenever -I wanted to put that thought into action, my feet refused to move; I -stood like one rooted to the ground, and all that I was able to do was -to look after her and watch how she went away slowly, sometimes very -slowly. - -One day I heard from a schoolfellow that Hilda had been sent to Krems -in order to join a seminary for school-teachers. After that I felt as -lonely and wretched as a child has ever felt. It is true that she had -never spoken to me again, but her figure was the most vivid picture -in my mind, and to watch her secretly from behind a quiet corner had -filled my heart with a happiness strangely sweet and sad.... "Why," -I thought angrily--"why was Hilda sent away? why not Leopoldine?" -Whenever we met, her face wore a malicious smile, the very smile it -had worn when she had said those terrible words to me. I began to hate -her, and prayed every night to God that He might cause her mother (she -had no father) to be locked up too. But her mother never got locked up. -One day when I accidentally passed their house I saw a lot of labourers -busying themselves over it, and when I, driven by curiosity, stole by -in the dusk another evening, the house looked more beautiful than ever. -Henceforth Leopoldine was dressed in very pretty clothes, and the smile -on her face grew more and more malicious. - -I had no pretty clothes, and my parents had no pretty house. My -father's business went from bad to worse, and he himself grew to be -taciturn and did not speak to us children for weeks. Another little -brother had arrived too, and my mother worked incessantly. I assisted -her by minding the children and carrying about the baby, but I did not -like doing it and felt utterly unhappy. - -My brother had been sent to the High School at Krems because my mother -had set her heart upon it. My father used to point out to her that he -was hardly able to afford the expense, but my mother responded that -Charlie was the cleverest boy that could be found, and that it would be -an everlasting pity to bring him up otherwise. After these explanations -my father was silent, but I am perfectly convinced that he would have -much preferred to apprentice my brother to some trade. Charlie came -home every Sunday and left again on the Monday. On these visits he -treated us all in a most conceited manner, and even declared one day -that country-folk were fools. In spite of that I used to see him off -each time he went away, and felt like crying when the train had steamed -out of the little station. - - - - -Chapter IV - - -Without being able to give a satisfactory explanation of my feelings -I grew unhappier from day to day, and at times when I was most sad I -became conscious of a story in my head, and wrote it down, but tore -the paper up again without ever showing it to anybody. My dearest wish -was to be sent to Krems, so that I also might join the seminary for -school-teachers, and I wondered in my heart of hearts whether Hilda -would speak to me then. As a matter of course that secret longing was -in vain. - -The time when I was to leave school approached at last, and I hailed -that event with great delight, for I rejoiced at the thought that in -the future I should not be compelled to meet Leopoldine. I had time -to spare now, but I did not help my mother with her housework any more -than before. I did not like staying at home, and wanted to go away. But -whenever I mentioned the subject my mother declared that she could not -spare me yet, and that in any case I was too young to face the world -alone. I felt exceedingly impatient, grew very discontented, silent -towards my mother and my two bigger sisters, and spent, in spite of the -noisy company around me, a very lonely life. My poems were the only joy -I had; they used to come again and again, but I kept them as secret as -before. - -During the course of these events I had entered on my fifteenth year, -and into my discontent and restlessness there began to twine themselves -the thoughts, the dreams, and the wishes of a girl of my age. I knew -that all the girls who had left school with me were already associating -with young men, and I wondered which of the young men of the village -I could love. But I soon discovered that there were none at all who -pleased me, because they were all very rude, and constantly alluding -to things which made me blush. Contempt and disgust were the only -feelings they aroused within me, and it was clear to me that Langenau -did not hold the hero of my dreams. - -The young men themselves hated me. Whenever they spoke to me I -responded shortly and tartly, and if any of them tried to pinch my arm -or stroke my cheek, I stepped back and uttered an angry exclamation. -After that they used to say that I had better not be so affected, if -they were good enough to look at me despite the fact that my people -were deeply in debt. I was perfectly used to such words, and knew that -those who spoke them were speaking the truth, since the same thing was -said at home without anyone contradicting it. - -Owing to the fact that my father could afford the fees no longer, my -brother had been compelled to leave the High School, and was serving -his time in a business. - -I suffered under these conditions more than I can ever say. My only -wish was to go away from Langenau and to live in some place where -nobody knew me and where nobody could reproach me. But my mother would -not hear of such a thing. Whenever I spoke about it she comforted me -with the idea of getting away later, and I gave in, simply because I -could do nothing else. - -It was one of my daily occupations to chop up wood in a little -shed. The shed was situated at the back of the house, and close to -the wine-cellar that belonged to the landlord. Wealthy people from -Vienna or the surroundings used to buy wine from our landlord, and -not infrequently a gentleman went down into the cellar, and with the -landlord sampled the different wines. One afternoon I was chopping wood -again--I loved doing it merely because I was all alone in the shed, and -my thoughts could come and go undisturbed. I stood with my back against -the door, and was both chopping and thinking diligently when a shadow -fell suddenly across the wooden sides of the shed; and turning round I -saw one of the gentlemen who used to visit the wine-cellar. He smiled -at me and started a conversation--whether the rough work pleased me, -and so forth. First I felt ashamed of having been observed, but his -winning, open manner soon banished my shyness. While he was speaking he -smiled and entered the shed. But in spite of his friendliness I felt -all at once terribly afraid. I lifted the chopper as if to protect -myself, and said: "Will you please go out?" He smiled with even more -friendliness, and I saw that his teeth were white and even. - -"How shy you are, little one! all I should like to have is a kiss." - -I pressed myself hard against the wooden wall, set my lips tightly, and -raised the chopper higher still. He must have read in my face something -of my determination, because he started to whistle suddenly, and went -out of the shed, going backwards as he left. I would have killed him -had he dared to touch me. - -A young man visited our village sometimes in order to collect sums -of money due to a life insurance company. My parents were in no way -insured, but every month the people next door received a call from him. -One day, instead of the young fellow, a smartly-dressed man appeared -who told our neighbours that he was the manager of the company, and -that he himself was collecting on this occasion, because frauds had -been discovered in connection with the young fellow who had collected -previously. After he had left them he knocked at our door, and entered -in the politest fashion possible. He looked so very smart that my -mother wiped a chair with her apron and invited him to sit down. It was -summer, and very hot. The manager seemed to be tired, and asked for a -glass of water. After my mother had filled one of her best glasses with -clear and cool well-water, he emptied it at one draught, after which -he stretched his legs and glanced searchingly through our little room, -that looked poor indeed but was kept very clean. My mother, who is but -a plain woman, felt much flattered at the sight of his unmistakable -comfort, and tried in her humble way to draw him into conversation. - -"Dear madam," the manager said at last, "do you by any chance know of a -young girl who could help my wife with her housework?" - -I sat at the window with a half-knitted stocking in my hands, and -slowly let it sink. - -"What I need," continued the grand gentleman, "is a nice girl who will -mind the children and make herself generally useful." - -My mother was just going to say that at present she knew of nobody, but -that she could make inquiries if the gentleman wished--or something -of that sort--when I got up and, standing before the manager, said: -"Perhaps I could be of some use to you?" - -Scarcely had I uttered these words when I felt terrified at the courage -I had shown, and thought that I must have said something very silly and -rude. The manager, however, did not seem to have the same idea, because -he smiled and nodded his head. - -"That would be excellent," and, after a little pause, addressing -himself to my mother, he asked, "When could she come?" - -I was quite prepared to hear my mother reply that I could not go at -all, or even to see her bursting into tears, and was therefore greatly -surprised at what she replied: "If you really care to try her, I could -send her next week." - -At these words I scarcely managed to suppress a cry of delight. The -gentleman then said that he lived at Krems, and that I could come home -sometimes. The day of my arrival as well as a few other things having -been settled, the manager bowed himself out. As soon as the door had -closed behind him I glanced rather shyly at my mother, but she looked -into my eyes steadily and said: "As you absolutely will not stay at -home, it is best that you should go soon to see for yourself what the -world is like." And after a moment she added: "Perhaps you will have -good luck." - -During the rest of the day I tried to do everything I could to please -my mother. I sang the youngest child to sleep, and told the elder ones -stories. In the evening when the children had gone to bed, I promised -my mother that I would work hard and try to save up a little money. -When my father came home and heard of my decision, all he said was -that he hoped I could stand the hardship of service. - -The week passed rapidly; my mother washed and ironed the few pieces of -underclothing I possessed, and I mended them as much as possible. I -would have liked very much to buy a little trunk, but my father said -that he had not enough money, so I packed my belongings into brown -paper, and tied up the small parcel with a thick string. - -The manager had arranged to come and fetch me himself. On the appointed -day I stood in my Sunday dress and a faded straw hat, which I had -decorated with a new bright ribbon, awaiting him in our best room. He -arrived very soon; my mother had laid the table, and brought in the -steaming hot coffee and some appetizing white bread. After the manager -had helped himself to enormous portions, he prepared to depart. I -had neither touched the coffee nor the bread, feeling sick at heart, -although nothing could have induced me to make such a confession. -Several times I ran into the kitchen as if to fetch something, but in -reality I wanted to wipe away the tears quickly and secretly. The -parting came at last, a scene that could only be a simple one to such a -simple woman as my mother, although behind her coloured frock the dear, -faithful heart trembled and ached.... - -"Be good," she called after me, and I nodded back this time with tears -in my eyes. - - - - -Chapter V - - -The people to whom I went were Jews. The mistress with her dark hair -and dark eyes seemed beautiful to me. The four children--three boys -and one girl--had all rather reddish hair and freckles, except one of -the boys, who was seven years old and idiotic. I had to take the three -elder children to school and fetch them home again, to tidy the rooms -and to keep the kitchen in order. The lady did the cooking herself. As -the idiotic boy did not go to school, he was constantly around me and -chattered to me all day long in unintelligible sentences. Often he tore -off his clothes and ran about naked. In the beginning I was afraid of -him, but I soon noticed that with the exception of a few disagreeable -things, to which one had to get used, he was perfectly harmless. Many -times during the day he would come and spit into my face. At first I -could hardly bear this, but by-and-by I got to know his movements, and -quickly turned away when I saw him coming. But worse still than this -poor boy was his brother, a boy of twelve years, who had a horrible way -of speaking to me, and made me feel as much as possible that I had to -obey him. The girl I liked the best. - -I had not been in this family for two months when I noticed that the -circumstances of the manager were no better than those of my parents. -People frequently came to the door and asked me if they could see the -manager. But as soon as I announced such a visitor the manager became -furious, and told me to tell the people to go to hell. I soon got to -know that these were all creditors asking for their money. It had been -decided that I should receive eight shillings each month, and I could -scarcely wait the day on which my wages fell due. When I left home I -only possessed one pair of shoes, and these were almost in shreds. -Therefore I thought of getting a new pair of strong shoes and also a -small notebook into which I could copy my verses, which, although my -work was plentiful, I did not stop writing. But yet I felt as lonely -as before. I could easily have made acquaintances, but I did not wish -to. The cook at the next house often spoke to me, and told me once -that every second Sunday she went out with her sweetheart, who was a -corporal; after which she asked me how many times I went out. I told -her that I did not go out at all, and at this she looked at me with -suspicion. - -"Well, I never! then madam very likely allows your sweetheart into her -drawing-room to visit you, eh?" - -"You impudent person, I have no sweetheart!" - -At these words she gave a jeering laugh. - -"So it is as far as that already. You are sick of men; I expect one of -them has left you in the lurch." - -Without answering I turned my back on her, and afterwards we saw each -other as little as possible. - -I began to hate everybody with whom I came in contact: the baker -because he had always some nasty words ready, which made me cast down -my eyes and caused the blood to rush to my head; the milkman for the -same reason; and the family itself because it was plain that the man -was a liar. To my great disappointment I had not received my wages, and -so I wrote my verses, which were even more frequent now, on paper bags -that had previously contained such things as rice, tea or sugar; and -these verses I carefully kept and put away. - -One day I had just come back from a walk with the children, and after I -had put the youngest child into the cot I went into the kitchen to warm -his milk; on entering the kitchen whom should I see but Madam standing -calmly in front of the drawer in which I kept my belongings. The drawer -was open and my mistress held in her hands one of those paper bags that -I knew so well. I was frightened and furious at the same time, but -the respect which, at least outwardly, I had for that very indiscreet -person prevented me from uttering any angry exclamation. With an -amused and astonished face she turned towards me and held up the bag, -"You have never told me about these things," she said, seeming not at -all troubled at being detected in that mean action. "If you please," I -answered, trying to get hold of the bag, "it would not have been worth -the while." She still wore the amused smile on her face. "No, let me -have it, I am going to show it to my husband." - -"For God's sake, no!" I cried in dismay. - -"Why not? I like the verses very well." - -The whole of my indignation and feelings of revolt immediately -vanished. I felt like kneeling down and kissing the hem of her -dress; her words had made me very happy, and from that day forward I -recognized in her my guardian angel. - -The fact that I as yet had not received my wages made me, it is true, -feel very sad; but I told myself that this must be the manager's fault, -for he ought to have provided her with the money to pay her servant. -But she, and of this I was perfectly sure, never even caught sight of -a single penny. - -My mistress had shown the manager some of the verses discovered in the -drawer, but he had laughed and responded that she had better not turn -my head altogether since I was a good, hard-working girl, and that -there were a far greater number of good poets than good servants in -existence. The manager had to go away to Vienna nearly every week. One -day when he had gone there as usual and the children were put to bed, -Madam came down into the kitchen where I was busily washing up, and -said: "Anna, I want to speak to you." - -I thought that she was going to pay me my wages at last, and my heart -beat faster. She sat down on a kitchen chair, and watched me silently -for a while. Suddenly she began again: - -"Tell me why you have not been truthful with me?" - -I was startled and looked at her in surprise, but my conscience was -clear, and so I answered quietly: - -"I don't know what you mean, Madam." - -She tapped the floor impatiently with her feet, and said: - -"No pretences, please. You remember that you told me once that you had -no sweetheart, but that poem"--and oh, horror and dismay! she held up a -paper bag on which I had written only the day before, and which I had -never intended to show to anybody--"that poem does not say the same. -Where is he? What profession is he in? Have you got his photo?" - -I took my hands out of the hot dish-water, and covered my face. - -"Don't be so silly," she continued. "I am a married woman, and you may -trust me. Now, come, out with it," and while she said that she looked -at me half commandingly, half lovingly. My hands dropped, and I noticed -how very red and ugly they were. A new shame overcame me. - -"It is true," I said at last. - -"That you have got a sweetheart?" - -"No; I mean that I have not got one." - -"But this poem?" and, greatly puzzled, she looked down at the bag that -was smelling of coffee. - -"I don't know who he is, nor where he is;" and with sudden courage: -"all I know is that he does exist." - -"But, pray, where have you seen him, then?" - -"I have never seen him at all, except in my thoughts." - -"Oh" she exclaimed, and rising with a yawn, she began to leave the -kitchen; but at the doorway she turned round once more and said: "As -long as you know him only in your thoughts he can do you no harm." - -Scarcely had the door closed behind her, when I flew at the drawer, -pulled out the bags, and threw them into the fire. I watched until -the flickering flames had destroyed every bit of them, then I leaned -against the grey wall of the kitchen and wept bitterly. - -Oh, for those tears in that grey kitchen! Oh, for those dreams in that -grey kitchen! Every moment my heart yearned in incomprehensible longing -for him. When would he come? Oh, when? When would he come to take me -away, like the princes came in the fairy tales to woo a shepherdess or -a kitchen-maid? I felt so sure that we were destined to meet some day, -but it seemed a long, long way off. Sometimes a doubting fear would -overcome me. How if the picture of my dreams--that picture so proud, so -far away--should never turn into a form of flesh and blood, but ever -be a dream! At such moments I was weak and foolish. I looked down at -my hands, which were so red and ugly from washing-up and scrubbing. If -no man would ever love me because of my red and ugly hands, what then? -At that question my soul trembled, and tears thronged into my eyes. -The next second, however, I smiled at my fears; a line or two out of -my poems had fallen into my thoughts. What did it matter that my hands -were red and ugly? What did hands matter at all? What had the heart, -the mind, the soul of a man or woman in common with his or her hands? -The man of my dreams was not a man who would love a girl only for -her beauty. No; he would love me for the purity of my thoughts, the -chastity of my longing, and for that wonderful part of my being that -made me write my poems and dream all day. - -Once on washing-day I was standing at the tub, when the door opened and -my mother came in. - -"Mother!" I cried, "why did you not write that you were coming?" - -"We have not heard from you for so long, and when no letter arrived -yesterday I became worried, and walked over," she said. - -Only then I noticed her tired face and the dust that covered her rough -shoes. - -"Do you mean to say you walked all that distance?" - -"Yes, I did;" and after a little pause; "we must be very careful with -our pennies, business is so bad now." - -I tried hard to keep back my tears. - -"If I only had some money I would gladly give it to you," I said. - -My mother shook her head. - -"Don't be silly. You need your money yourself. Have you managed to save -a little?" - -"No," I answered very slowly. - -"Let me see, you have been here for a year now"--she began to count by -the aid of her fingers--"and your wages are eight shillings a month." -She counted again. "That ought to have left you something. I am afraid -you are careless, my dear." - -Seeing that she looked at me with tender but reproachful eyes I cuddled -down beside her. - -"No," I said, "I am not careless; but--" - -And then I told her that I had never received my real wages; only just -enough to buy some very necessary articles of clothing, or to have a -pair of shoes mended when it was urgently required. I felt very much -ashamed to tell her this, since my own stubbornness was the cause of it -all. My mother sat still, and after a long while she said: - -"I am glad I have come. I have never been quite at my ease, and wanted -to see for myself whether you are happy or not. I have heard of a very -good situation, which would be suitable for you. You would have to look -after three children, and to help the cook with the scrubbing. The -household there is kept on a big scale, and you would learn a great -deal." - -I remembered the mad boy, who still managed to spit at me occasionally, -and the sneers of the older boy. - -"I would like to take that place," I said at last. - -My mother got up from the linen-basket on which she had been sitting. - -"It is easy enough," she replied. "I have arranged for a fortnight's -notice with the manager, and if I give it to-day, you are free to go in -two weeks' time. I have seen the lady of the other post; she is very -kind, and does not mind waiting another three weeks. You might just as -well come home for a week. Does that suit you?" - -I nodded in silence, and we parted. - -When I went into the kitchen later on, my mistress was sitting near the -fire as if she had been waiting for me. - -"I am sorry your mother wants you to leave me, but I have always said -that this was too rough work for you. I hope you will like your new -situation." - -After the fortnight had passed I again packed up my things into brown -paper, but the parcel seemed to be smaller than it had been a year ago. -When I took my leave my mistress handed me ten shillings, and promised -to send on the rest of the money due to me. Although I knew for a -certainty that she would never do it, I thanked her very much for the -ten shillings, which seemed to be an enormous sum. - - - - -Chapter VI - - -I noticed slight changes when I arrived home. The lodging was the same, -but I missed several pieces of furniture, which I knew had formerly -been there. At first I wanted to ask for them, but a strange sensation -of fear and cowardice closed my lips. There was also a pipe lying on -one of the shelves. - -"Who smokes a pipe?" I remarked. - -My mother threw a quick glance at it. - -"Father, of course; he thinks a pipe comes cheaper." - -There were also other things that I thought surprising, but I would ask -no more. - -"I dare say you know that Charlie has left his master," said my mother. - -"How should I know? Nobody has told me; where is he?" - -"With father; I expect they will come in soon." - -Although I felt pleased to see my brother again, of whom I had heard -nothing all the time he had been away, I was not pleased that he had -broken off his apprenticeship and had to begin afresh. - -My mother had started to put the children to bed and to lay the table. -When it was dark my father came in with my brother, and after the -simple greetings were exchanged we sat down to supper. I noticed now -how handsome my brother had become. Although he was only sixteen years -of age, he was much taller than my father, and of such gracefulness -that I could hardly take my eyes from him. His face was very beautiful. -His eyes blue and large, and shadowed by most exquisite lashes. On his -upper lip a fair, downy moustache showed, but his under-lip was, I -thought, just a little too full. - -"What are you going to do now?" I asked him once during the meal. -"Speaking frankly, you are too big (and too handsome I had almost -added) to be an apprentice." - -"You are right, my beloved sister," he answered with a touch of scorn -in his voice; "for that sort of position I have grown too big and, to -tell the truth, too superior." - -"Too superior?" I asked in amazement, and noticed how white and -beautiful his hands were. He looked at his well-kept nails thoughtfully -for awhile. - -"Yes, too big and too superior to have my ears boxed." - -"Did they?" I gasped, not daring to complete my sentence. - -"Yes, and that's why I ran away." - -"Perhaps you ought to have stayed there, after all," remarked my mother -somewhat timidly. "What will you do now?" - -He gave my mother a look that alarmed me. It was an ugly, almost -threatening look, which robbed his face of all its beauty. But as if -conscious of the impression produced upon me, he calmly leant back on -the wooden chair and smiled self-contentedly. - -"There is no need for you to lament," he said, addressing my mother; "I -shall not be a burden to you.... I am going to Vienna," he finished, -turning to me. - -"To Vienna?" I asked. "What are you going to do there?" - -He smiled again, and on this occasion contemptuously. - -"I don't know yet; but there is no need to worry about such a fellow -as I am; it is true that I have no money, but here (he pointed at his -forehead) I have got something that is worth more than money," and -after this introduction he started to picture his future. - -"To begin with," he said, "it is undoubtedly a great misfortune to be -born in the country. Think of the vast possibilities that are open to -you in town. There are the well-managed schools, the places of historic -importance, the innumerable means of earning a living, and the very -air of culture and refinement that envelopes everybody. There is no -real work in the country, and there never will be. It is true that -the people get up in the mornings and try to do what there is to be -done; but where is, I ask you, that race of all the different brain -and bodily powers that is so characteristic of life in town, where the -clever man is superseded by the cleverest man, and everybody tries to -reach the top in consequence?... If I were silly enough to stay at -a little country-place, what would become of me? Nothing but a mere -loafer, who drags about quite uselessly the great gift of intelligence -that fortune (my dear, I am above that nonsense of God and Church) has -bestowed upon his cradle or rather upon his brain. I have therefore -decided to throw in my lot with the quickest and cleverest of my age, -and it must be hell itself playing against me if I do not succeed -in getting enough money to enable me to buy a few hundreds of such -dens"--he looked round the room contemptuously--"in a couple of years." - -With my hands folded almost devoutly I sat silent during the whole of -this speech, and did not quite know what to make of it. I greatly -admired the graceful flow of his words, as well as his thoughts which -were entirely new to me. Nevertheless there was something within me -that warned me not to surrender the views and ideas I had so far held. - -"I hope you will have good luck," I said at last when he made a little -pause; "but I should like to know what you are going to be." - -"Alas!" he replied, "I can see for myself now that you are not much -better than these folks"--he pointed with his thumb at my parents--"and -that you have never, not even in the least, raised yourself above -the level of your birth. Your way of thinking is the way these folks -think"--he pointed at my parents again--"and they think as their -grandparents did. Progress is to all of you as foreign as China. How -can you be so silly," he continued, somewhat more gently, "to ask me -what I am going to be? How can I tell to-day? At the present I have -not the faintest notion of the conditions and circumstances of Vienna, -and how am I to know which of my capacities is likely to be the most -eminent? Let me have the choice of a profession, the possibility of a -trial, and I will tell you what I am made of." - -Greatly ashamed of my ignorance, I was silent again. - -"If you possessed brain," my brother continued--"a thing which I am -sorry to say I do not suspect you of after I have had the pleasure -of exchanging these few words"--he bowed ironically--"you might have -perceived by now that I am no ordinary person, but of an artistic -turn of mind. These people"--he pointed again at my parents--"have, -unfortunately, little or no understanding of that, and will in all -probability fail to comprehend the greatness that the future holds in -store for me. That is, however, of little consequence; it is you whom -I expect to escape from your present station in life"--I admired the -delicate way in which he referred to my station--"as soon as possible. -It is true that you will never succeed in reaching the height destined -for me, but you may, nevertheless, go on to perfect yourself in every -way possible, in order to spare me the distress of blushing for your -ignorance and social standing later on." - -My father had got up from the table some time before, and with his -hands crossed on his back nervously paced the room. He coughed now and -again, as if something irritated his throat, and it was plain that he -was angry. All at once he stopped in front of my brother. - -"Don't you think," he asked, "that it would be best for you to mix with -your own class of people as soon as possible?" - -"Why, of course," my brother replied with utter coolness, "I have -already decided to leave for Vienna to-morrow; all that I must ask you -is to let me have the money for the journey, a sum so trivial that I -can repay it to you multiplied a hundred times in a few months." - -They looked quite calmly at each other, but it was a calm that seemed -to be loaded with thunder and lightning. My mother must have felt the -same, for she got up rather hastily, and her voice trembled as she -said: "There is plenty of time to settle that to-morrow. You had -better go to bed now." - -The thunderstorm, however, broke next day. My brother insisted on a -certain sum of money, which my father thought too great and refused to -let him have the whole of it. - -"Do you want me to reach Vienna without a single penny in my pockets?" - -"I will give you as much as I can spare; there are the little ones to -be thought of; I cannot let them starve." - -"Then you wish rather that I should starve?" - -"I don't think that it would come to that. You are old enough to earn -your living." - -"Old enough! Do you really mean to say that a fellow sixteen years of -age is old enough to earn his living?" - -"Why not? I myself had to leave home when I was only a child of eleven, -and have worked for my living ever since." - -"Worked for your living!" my brother cried scornfully. "Wasting money -and getting into debt to such an extent that no dog will take the -trouble to look at us. Do you call that working for your living?" - -The veins showed thickly on my father's forehead. - -"You wretch!" he cried, and flew at my brother's throat, "is that what -I get for having taken endless trouble to bring you up?" - -It was evident that my brother had not expected so violent an outburst -on the part of my habitually gentle father. He grew deadly pale and -tried to free himself from my father's clutch. - -After he had succeeded in doing so, he reached for his hat and turned -to the door. But, before he closed it behind him, he said: "You will -find me in the Kamp, if you should happen to look for me to-morrow." - -What he called the Kamp was a river of considerable depth. After he -had left, the room looked a picture of misery and grief. My mother was -leaning against the wall weeping violently; my father was pacing the -room, his face rigidly set and breathing rapidly; the smallest of the -children, roused by the noise, had started to cry; and I trembled in -every limb with excitement. - -It was my brother's last words that worried me beyond expression--"You -will find me in the Kamp, if you should happen to look for me -to-morrow." - -I imagined him plunging into the dark green water, sinking slowly and -being found entangled in the tall reeds near the banks. "Mother," I -said, speaking incoherently and almost inaudibly, "do you think that he -will?" - -"Don't ask me anything," she replied; "I am the most unfortunate woman -under the sun." - -During the whole day I hoped that he might still come back. He did -not return, however, and when evening drew near I dismissed all hope -of ever seeing him again. The next day I could not remain indoors any -longer, so I went out and walked towards the river without actually -knowing or wishing it. Every time I saw a group of people coming -towards me I stopped in terror, for I believed that they had found -him. Nobody, however, seemed to be on so terrible a mission. - -The people looked gaily at me, and passed on to their work in the -vineyards. When I reached the church square, the very sight of -which was enough to arouse such sad and sweet memories that I felt -more wretched, my brother appeared on the scene. Giving a joyous -exclamation, I hastened towards him. - -"Where did you spend the night, Charlie?" - -But this question did not seem to please him. - -"I certainly expected more tact on your part," he replied, stepping -over to my side, "than even to allude to that distressing scene at -which you were unfortunate enough to be present." - -I did not dare to ask another question, and walked along in silence. -Secretly I was surprised at his composure. - -"I am extremely sorry for your misfortune," my brother said after a -pause. According to my opinion it was he who was the more unfortunate -of the two. - -"Why are you sorry for me?" I asked him, and regretted the question the -next moment, because his face flushed with anger. - -"How can you ask why, when you yourself were present at this miserable -occurrence, which must have taught you of what low descent you are." - -"I?" - -"Well, of course I mean we, but as I have ceased to belong to these -folks any longer, I cannot help feeling extremely sorry at the thought -that you will have to spend the whole of your life amongst these -narrow-minded people, who are little better than savages. Ever since -yesterday I have thought how I could help you." - -According to my opinion he needed help far more than I did; but he did -not seem to think so. - -"What I have decided to do is this: I will take you down to Vienna, -where I shall watch over you, cultivate any abilities that you may -show--in short, educate you. As soon as I have shaken my boots free -from the dust of this place and reached Vienna, I am going to work day -and night in order to save enough money to enable me to write for you, -and to let you learn all the important branches of art and science, -such as languages, music, etc. Do you agree to it?" - -I felt mightily touched at his generosity and could not speak for a -while. - -"As a matter of course," he continued hurriedly, "that cannot be -done right away; you will have to wait a little, and in the meantime -there is nothing to prevent you from accepting the place that mother -has found for you. Your leisure time, however, I want you to fill -up usefully, so that I shall not be ashamed of you when I introduce -you to my friends. I strongly advise you to read Schiller. There is -everything in his dramas that you may need to appear clever and witty -in whatever situation you find yourself. It would be an excellent thing -if you could quote from his works at every possible opportunity. I also -advise you to read Goethe's works. Be careful, however, not to quote -from them, as your mind is not yet ready to fathom the profound depth -of his thoughts, and you might fall into the evil habit of quoting -passages at quite inappropriate moments. Perhaps it is better for you -to refrain altogether from reading his deeper works, until I myself -shall be able to expound them to you. But," and a very winning smile -parted his lips, "it is now time for me to say good-bye." - -"Good-bye!" I exclaimed; "where do you want to go to?" - -"I am travelling down to Vienna." - -"But you have got no money!" - -His lips closed, and the winning smile vanished. - -"I can see," he retorted, "that you are backward in every way. -The thing you most lack, and that you need to acquire first, is -tactfulness. Because, alas! one of our family happens to have no -feeling at all, do you really expect everybody to be in the same -miserable state? Always be careful, I tell you, about mentioning -anything that might recall occurrences or situations of a distressing -character. A certain pride exists, which is alive even within the most -pitiable wretch ... take care never to rouse that," and holding out his -hand, he said good-bye. - -I did not take his hand, but stared at his beautiful fingers. - -"I don't mean to hurt your feelings," I said almost crying, "but how -can you get to Vienna without a single penny?" - -He frowned, and his handsome face darkened. - -"It seems that I cannot expect from you that delicacy of feeling which -you must possess if you are ever to deserve my affection. But since you -are my sister, and really not to blame for your imperfections--because -it is the duty of parents to attend to their children's education, and -yours, I mean ours, have neglected that important thing entirely--I -will answer your question about the money. You are perfectly right in -suspecting that I have not a single penny, but let me tell you that I -would much rather walk all the distance from here to Vienna than bring -myself to accept another sou from the man who, on account of a strange -accident, is entitled to call himself my father. I have tried to find -out when the goods-train leaves for Vienna, and have decided to hide -myself in it." - -I shook my head in horror. - -"No, never!" I cried; "you must not do that. I have got some money," -and I pressed the rest of my ten shillings, which I had carefully -wrapped up in a piece of white paper, into his hand; whereupon I -detected signs of both anger and pity on his face. - -"Surely," he said, "I should be a scoundrel of the meanest order if I -touched this small sum of yours. Far be it from me to do such a thing;" -and he put the money back into my hand. "It is true," he added, "that -you have shown great tactlessness again, but I will forgive you this -time." - -Almost immediately he was gone, and although I was standing in the -street, I began to cry most piteously, regretting my poverty, my lack -of nobleness, even my very existence. I felt convinced that my brother -was not only an artist, but also a hero and a martyr. - - - - -Chapter VII - - -The situation in which I started soon after these events differed -somewhat from my first one. There were only three children, a second -maid--the cook--and instead of eight shillings I was promised ten -shillings a month. My duties were the same as before. I had to wash up -the dishes, to scrub the floor, and to take out the children as soon as -I had finished the housework. My new charges behaved much better than -the children of the manager, and I liked them all very much. The cook, -too, was nice. Neither in speech nor in manner was she objectionable, -and sometimes I used to read out my poems to her. She seemed to be very -fond of the verses, and often asked to hear them again. That made me -very happy. - -But after some months had passed away, and I became used to the change, -I was conscious again of the old well-known feeling of dissatisfaction -and loneliness. Frequently I used to sit down in a corner and sob -without knowing what was the matter. I was careful not to let the -mistress see my tears, but could not always hide them from the cook, -who was nearly always with me. She had asked me already what I was -crying for, but I could give no explanation. - -One Saturday afternoon, when we were busily scrubbing the floor and all -the different meat-boards in the kitchen, the cook noticed my swollen -eyelids again. - -"What is the matter with you, I should like to know," she said. "You -are home-sick perhaps." - -I shook my head slowly and thoughtfully. - -"I don't think I am home-sick, but I believe I am unhappy because I -can't go and learn anything." - -"Can't go and learn anything!" she repeated. "What on earth do you want -to learn?" - -I hesitated a little. - -"I am sure I don't know. All I know is that I am frightfully silly." - -"Well, I shouldn't say that," she replied good-naturedly. "I quite like -the way you help me in the kitchen." - -"Oh well, yes; but I mean that I don't know how to play the piano, nor -how to speak French." - -"But you do not need such things in service." - -"Quite so; but I don't want to be in service." - -"Oh!" she exclaimed, and then there was a long silence. - -After we had done our work we took off our wet overalls, and put on -clean pinafores. The cook reached down one of the shining saucepans -hanging on the walls, and began to make the coffee, while I went into -the dining-room to lay the table. After I had taken in the tray with -the hot milk, the steaming coffee, and the cups of white porcelain, the -cook and I sat down in the kitchen to take our coffee also. The cook -poured out the coffee, and I noticed that her hands trembled a little. -She did not speak, and I was silent too, but I could feel that our -previous conversation occupied her thoughts. When her cup was empty she -put her head into her hands, and looked me straight in the face. - -"Then you want to know French?" she asked abruptly. - -"Well, it need not be exactly French." - -"What else, then?" - -"I don't know." - -"That's silly. You must know your own mind, to be sure." - -"I believe that I should like to learn English," I confessed, much -embarrassed and ashamed. - -"I have never heard of a person learning English. Why would you not -rather learn French?" - -"No," I said slowly but decisively, "I would much rather learn English." - -"I have thought of everything," she continued after a pause; "the -mistress must not know about it. She herself has never learnt anything -of that sort, and would consider it to be nothing but pride on your -part. But it might be managed, nevertheless, if you would learn only in -the evening after you have put the children to bed." - -"Of course," I cried delightedly; "I would not dream of doing it during -the daytime. There is only one thing," I added thoughtfully: "where -shall I be able to find a teacher in the evening?" - -"A teacher!" cook exclaimed in utter surprise; "do you mean to say that -you want a teacher?" - -I lost heart considerably at her question. - -"Of course, I am sure it is impossible without a teacher." - -"But won't that be too expensive?" - -I assumed great indifference at her remark. - -"I don't think that it could cost much," I said. - -"How much do you think he would charge you?" - -"I don't know exactly, but it won't be above a shilling or two." - -"But, my dear, you can't afford that." - -"Well, let me see. My wages are ten shillings a month, and I do not -need all the money." - -"Of course not But you have to think of the future." - -"Well, that's just what I am doing." - -The cook did not understand what I meant by these words, and as the -bell rang to show that I was wanted, we dropped the subject, and I did -not dare to touch upon it again in spite of the growing impatience and -longing within me. - -A few days later, however, it happened that the cook spoke of it again -quite abruptly. - -"Do you think that you would get some benefit from it?" - -"From what?" I asked, and looked as if I had no notion of her thoughts. - -"From the English language, of course." - -"Well, if I knew how to speak it correctly I am certain that I could -make a lot of money with it." - -"Where?" - -"Not here, of course," I replied, and turned my head guiltily away -from her gaze. We had to do the scrubbing again, and the cook devoted -herself to the work almost savagely; but when the kitchen glittered -and shone, and we were once more sitting down to drink our coffee, she -continued: - -"You must try to take your lessons on a Friday evening. The mistress as -well as the master are at the club, and won't be back before eleven. Do -you think you could be back before then?" - -I was happy beyond expression, and would have liked to put my arms -round the neck of that dear simple creature. - -"What do you think!" I exclaimed, wild with joy, and with my hands -folded as if in prayer; "I shall be in much earlier than that." But in -a moment I grew worried again. "Are you sure that the porter won't tell -about it?" - -"Never mind about the porter. I will have a talk with him." - -After that we decided that I should look out for a teacher, and -the matter was settled. On the following days when I took out the -children, I looked up and down the houses most carefully, and found at -last what I was searching for. "Languages and Music taught here," stood -out clearly from a black board of granite, and the black board was -fastened on to a stately house. In spite of the shyness caused by the -grandeur of the house I longed to go in right away, but the presence of -the children kept me from carrying out my wish. They were old enough -to understand everything, and there was not the slightest doubt that -they would go and repeat my conversation with a teacher of "languages -and music" to their mother. It is true that my mistress was always most -kind to me, but, as cook remarked, she would never have understood. - -When I arrived home I told my friend about my success, and asked her -how I could manage to go there without letting anybody know. - -"The only thing you can do," she said, "is to peep in when you go to -fetch the milk." - -I thought how very ridiculous it would look for me to go into a room -with a large milk-can in my hands, and did not like her proposal. -There was, however, no other way if I did not want to arouse suspicion, -so next day I pulled the bell of the imposing house. I could hear it -ring from within, and the sound made me still more uncomfortable. I -wished the milk-can at the bottom of the sea, and while I stood there -waiting I thought for a moment of hiding that disgraceful thing. I -looked round for a suitable corner, but then I was afraid that it might -be stolen, so I kept it in my hand, and only tried to hide it as much -as possible behind me when the door opened and a maid asked what I -wanted. Colouring deeply, I told her why I had come, and she begged me -to step in. She led the way into a room, which I thought was the most -magnificent room I had ever seen. There was a very large looking-glass, -and the very first thing I saw in it was myself. The second thing I -saw was the milk-can, and I looked away quickly; never before had it -seemed to me so big and ugly. A few minutes passed, and still I was -left alone. Just when I was beginning to regret that I had come at all, -the door opened, and a slender, sweet-looking woman entered the room. -The lady was Risa de Vall, the teacher of music and languages. As soon -as she saw me she smiled a very faint little smile, which I thought -was due to the milk-can, and in my heart of hearts I reproached that -article bitterly. - -"I am told that you wish to take lessons in the English language; is -that so?" - -"If you would be so very kind." - -"Do you live with your parents?" - -I blushed with shame, but answered truthfully: - -"No; I am in service." - -She was silent for awhile, and looked at me with keen, searching eyes. - -"Very well then, my hours are from eight o'clock in the morning till -six o'clock in the evening. When do you want to have your lesson?" - -"Oh, I am so very sorry, but I cannot come before eight in the evening." - -And, after I had said that, tears filled my eyes. - -She smiled again, but that time so kindly that I felt certain the -milk-can had no part in it, and to my greatest delight I heard her say: - -"I suppose I must make an exception for once, and give you your lesson -at a time convenient to you." - -With some hesitation I asked for her terms, secretly fearing that it -might not be possible after all. - -But I was soon relieved. After looking at me once more very keenly, she -named a price that even I considered ridiculously small. - -When I repeated this conversation to the cook, she looked very grave. -After a long silence she asked me whether I thought that English would -be a difficult language to learn. - -I replied that I did not know, since I had never heard anyone talk -English. - - - - -Chapter VIII - - -My life now began to be entirely different. All the week I worked gaily -for that one glorious day on which my lessons took place. I had bought -a grammar of the English language, and studied it whenever I could -spare a minute. My teacher seemed much pleased with my zeal, but I soon -found out that she had made up her mind to give me lessons in more -things than English. - -One day when I sat with her in her room, that had never lost its charm -for me, she asked me quite abruptly why a button was missing from my -jacket, and why my nails were always dirty. I felt exceedingly ashamed -at the two questions, and stammered some silly reply. At first I -thought she did not like me, but she was so sweet during the rest of -that lesson that I felt sure she had grown fond of me. When I got home -that evening the cook was already in bed. She looked at me in surprise -because I did not go to bed at once, as I was in the habit of doing, -but took my sewing-basket and searched its contents. - -"What are you looking for?" she asked. - -"For a pair of scissors." - -"What on earth do you want them for now?" - -"Oh, only for my nails." - -"Which nails?" - -But by that time I had discovered what I wanted, and having sat down on -the edge of my bed, I started to clean one finger after the other. - -"Well," my friend exclaimed, "something has got into your head to be -sure." - -"Nothing at all--but don't you think my hands are simply horrid?" - -"I believe you are really a proud one," she said, and looked at me with -great displeasure. - -During the time that I took my lessons, Miss Risa de Vall was always -zealous to point out to me the many great and little things that make -for beauty, order, and usefulness, and never for a moment did she waver -in her noble task. Gently, yet sternly, she checked my often wild -behaviour, dealing firmly and persistently with whatsoever fault she -found with me. After she had known me for about six months she asked -me one evening whether I had no other friend besides the cook. I said -"No," and then she told me that she had had a young lady as pupil in -the town where she used to teach a few years ago. Would I like to write -to her and ask her whether she cared to make friends with me? I was, -of course, eager to get to know the girl so tenderly spoken of by my -beloved mistress, and agreed with all my heart. I wrote to her on the -following day, and received an answer by return of post. Her letter was -brief, but sweet. When I showed the note to the cook, she said: "That -is a real lady, to be sure." I had, of course, no doubt about that. -By the flickering light of the candle, I sat down a few days later to -write to my new friend, but found it extremely difficult to begin. But -after I had managed to start I never stopped until I had filled at -least four to six pages. What I wrote about were all things of which I -thought constantly, but never confided to anybody--nay, not even to the -cook. - -During all this time I had heard nothing from my brother, and nobody -knew of his whereabouts. One day I got a note from my father in which -he told me that he had received a letter from Charlie. He wrote that -he was very well off, and made quite a lot of money. When I read that, -my heart beat faster. It is true that I never quite believed what he -had said to me at our parting; but now I recalled every word of it, and -wondered in a vague sense whether he was going to take me to Vienna. -I remembered his advice about reading Schiller and Goethe, and felt a -little alarmed because I had not yet done so. - -"There is no doubt," I said to myself, "that he is moving in society by -now, and my utter ignorance of Schiller's dramas would be a source of -constant humiliation to him." The fact that he had not written to me -since he went away did not surprise me in the least. I thought that he -had been obliged to work very hard, and had no time to spare. In order -to be prepared for him in case he should really come for me, I made -it my serious business to get a book by Schiller. But where was I to -get it from? I had no money to spare for books, and could not think of -buying one. In the dining-room there was a book-case, but it was always -locked up. The books there seemed to be regarded more for an ornament -than for use, since nobody ever took one out to read. - -But after another five or six months had elapsed, and no further news -was heard of my brother, I gradually forgot those glowing pictures of -an easy future, and finally thought no more about them. - -When I had been at my place for about two years, I happened to make the -acquaintance of a young lady whom I met occasionally in the woods when -walking with the children. She used to sit down on the bench beside me, -and while the children ran about and played among the trees, she would -sometimes start a conversation. - -"Why do you always stay at the same place?" she asked me one day. - -"Where else should I go?" - -"I could not answer that question offhand, but a girl like you ought to -try what luck she can have in the world." - -"What do you mean?" - -"What do I mean? I mean that a girl like you ought to have quite a -different position from the one you have at present." - -"But why do you say a girl like I am?" - -"No nonsense, if you please; you must know as well as I do, that you -are as clever as you are pretty." - -I thought about what my brother had told me, and then looked down at my -hands. - -"I always thought that I was very silly and very ugly." - -"Fiddlesticks! you are neither the one nor the other, and if I were in -your place I should go to a town and try to get on." - -"To Vienna?" - -"No," she said thoughtfully, and then as if a new idea had just -occurred to her: "Why don't you go to Buda-Pesth?" - -"To Buda-Pesth? But that is in Hungary: what am I to do there?" - -"The same thing that you do here, but with this difference, that there -you will be regarded as a governess and not as a servant, and you will -receive thrice the wages you receive here." - -I folded my hands slowly and devoutly as I always did when I was moved -by some great emotion. "But," I said at last, "am I ladylike enough for -such a situation?" - -"Of course; if you were not, do you think that I should advise you to -take it?" - -As she said this she stood up, and made preparations to go. She held -out her hand to me and stroked my cheeks. - -"Good-bye then, and think about what I have told you; I am fond of you -and should like to see you happy." - -After she had gone I repeated her words over and over again. It was -chiefly the one sentence that haunted me. "You will be regarded as a -governess and not as a servant, and you will receive thrice the wages -that you receive here...." Thrice the wages!... I began to reckon in -my thoughts. Three times ten shillings make thirty shillings every -month ... that would be an enormous sum which I could never want all -for myself. No, of course not. But I would send home half of it. My -father's letters told me that business was no better, and a little help -from somebody would be very convenient. - -"Oh, most gracious Lord," I prayed in my heart of hearts, "thirty -shillings every month would mean all the world to us." - -I got home rather late that evening, and my mistress reproached me -gently for not being punctual. For the first time I did not mind what -she said. I had intended to tell the cook of my conversation with the -girl in the woods, but then I thought it better to keep silence about -it, and to wait events. During the following days I looked out eagerly -for my new friend; but a fortnight elapsed before I saw her again. I -hurried towards her, hardly taking notice of her cheerful salute. - -"Where have you been all the time?" I asked. - -"I have been busy at home," she replied, looking in astonishment at -my face that was flushed with excitement. I tried to control myself -and sat down beside her. Although very impatient and very anxious to -continue our last conversation, I did not like to start the subject -myself. She, however, did not seem to have given it another thought. -Not a single word did she say about it. - -When at last it grew dark and I knew that I had to start home, I -took my courage in my hands, and said with as much indifference as -I could assume: "Oh yes, I wanted to tell you that I have thought -about everything you told me the last time, and that I shouldn't mind -taking your advice and going to Buda-Pesth." I noticed that she was -embarrassed, and the next words confirmed my suspicion. - -"My dear," she said, "I am truly sorry to have aroused thoughts within -you that might endanger the peace of your present life." - -All the happiness that I had felt went out of my heart, and with a -voice that was almost a sob, I said: "I really don't understand -you.... You yourself said----" - -"Quite so," she interrupted; "I have told you about things which, -however, I regret to have mentioned now that I can see that my mother -is perfectly right." - -"Your mother ... you told your mother about it?" - -"Well, yes, I have often mentioned you to her, and I told her of our -last conversation. She thought it very unwise on my part to have -made you discontented with the safe peaceful run"--she emphasized -"safe"--"of your life." - -"I understand. Your mother does not think that I am ladylike, and that -it might not be quite safe to assume that I should keep my situation." - -But after these weary words the girl put her arms round my neck. - -"You little silly," she said, "don't you know that you are far too good -to go into a situation at all? But since you happen to be poor and have -got to earn your living, it is far better that you should stay at a -place like our dear old Krems, where you are less likely to encounter -the dangers that lurk for young people in a big city." - -I had by now grasped the meaning of her words, and felt greatly moved. - -"I understand you, but you need not be afraid.... I am no flirt." - -"Hush," she replied in that soft, soothing voice that mothers use when -quieting their babies; "I know that; but don't you see that it is -hardly ever the flirt, but always the nice decent girl, who is taken -in?" - -"No, no," I answered blushingly; "I am sure that nothing will happen to -me." - -After these words my friend held me a little away from her, and gazed -into my eyes long and earnestly. - -"No, I don't think that anything will happen to you." Then she opened -her little hand-bag and took out an envelope, which she pressed into my -hands very hurriedly as if she was doing something wrong. - -"There," she said, "I have brought it along after all, in case you -wanted to go very much." After that she left me quickly, as if afraid -that she might regret what she had done. Then I smoothed out the -envelope and read the few words: - -"Miklosch Sandor, Registry Office, Buda-Pesth." - -I called the children together, and went home as if I was in a dream. - - - - -Chapter IX - - -The parting from the family in which I had been so kindly treated for -more than two years; the parting from the cook, who had been a friend -to me in her simple, unspoiled fashion; the parting from my dear -teacher, Miss Risa de Vall; and the parting from home--none of them -were easy to me. Lightest to bear of all these partings was perhaps -the last-named one. My parents had grown so poor during the two years -I had been away that I more than ever longed to help them. When they -knew what I was about to do, and when I further showed to them the -letter from Buda-Pesth confirming my engagement to three children with -a salary of thirty-five shillings a month, they, too, thought in their -homely way that I had at last made my fortune. Out of the little money -I possessed I bought a small trunk, covered with brown, strong canvas, -such as are used as hand-bags for travelling. But after I had packed -my things, the trunk, small though it was, was only half filled, so -few worldly goods could I call my own. That, however, troubled me but -little. While I was packing the cheap things, one after the other, into -the bag, I was dreaming all the time of thirty-five shillings, and of -the wonderful things I could buy with them. - -On the very day before my departure a letter arrived from my brother. -There had never been an address upon his former letters, but on this -occasion there was one. He told us that he was making quite a lot of -money, but he did not say how he made it. I was not surprised at this -omission, for I simply thought that he had really become an artist, and -did not mention his work because he took it for granted that nobody at -home would understand it. But I longed to know what he really was--a -painter, a sculptor, or a poet. The last thought made me blush with -embarrassment and pride. Yes, a poet--that was very likely, since I was -writing poems too; but then, of course, my poems would never be as -good as his! - -The address given in his letter was the name of a café. During the time -that I had still to spend at home I thought of my brother, and at last -I had such a very bold and daring idea that I was surprised at my own -courage. I would go and visit him. On my way to Buda-Pesth I had to -pass Vienna, and I determined to break my journey there in order to -look him up. I told my mother about it before leaving home the next -day, and she thought that he might certainly be very pleased to see me. - -I had put on my very best dress for the journey. It was made out of a -cheap blue woollen material. To match this dress I had bought a light -blue straw hat that had cost two shillings, and I felt convinced that -I looked exceptionally smart. My parents went to see me off, and to -make it easier for all of us I kept on talking about the thirty-five -shillings every month, and about the miraculous things one could do -with them. We arrived at the station early, and paced up and down -the platform. When the train at last came steaming in, I suppressed -my tears as bravely as I could, took my seat by the window of the -compartment, and nodded to my people with a smile on my face. A few -minutes later the horn was sounded to signal the departure; my father -waved his hat to me, my mother wiped her eyes, and I looked quickly -away from the window with a sob in my throat that could no longer be -suppressed. - -The journey to Vienna lasted four hours, during which time I thought -much of my brother. I felt absolutely certain that I had gained a -great deal during the last two years, and pictured to myself his joy -and surprise when he heard that I had also a little knowledge of the -English language. When I had travelled about half the journey it -occurred to me to write down a few of my poems, and to ask his opinion -about them. I found some white paper in my bag, and started at once. - -In Vienna I showed my brother's address to a policeman, and begged -him to direct me. A little later I walked up and down in front of a -café, carrying my trunk in my hands. So far I had not encountered any -difficulties, but now I was not quite sure how to proceed. It is true -that the most simple thing to do would have been to enter the café, but -I did not dare to do so because of all the smartly-dressed people who -sat round the gilded tables. Perhaps, I said to myself, he will come -out, or, should he be away from home, go in, and then there might be a -chance for me to speak to him. However, after a whole hour had passed, -and my little trunk had become heavy in my hands, I stepped quite -close to one of the tall windows, and looked boldly at the fashionable -crowd, hoping to see him seated at one of the gilded tables. But the -faces were all strange to me, and making a last desperate appeal to -my courage, I had just decided to go in, when I saw a waiter whose -gait and carriage seemed familiar to me. He was standing with his -back against the window and I could not see his face, but I had the -impression that I had met him somewhere before. I stared at him, and -had almost forgotten why I was there when a guest seated near the -window tapped the table with his spoon, and the waiter, who had aroused -my interest, immediately turned round and hurried towards him. I was so -surprised that I nearly dropped my trunk. The waiter was my brother. -Without hesitating another minute I went in. He caught sight of me -directly, and looking round him carefully in order to ascertain whether -he was watched or not, told me in a low voice to leave the café at -once, and to wait for him at the corner of the street, where he would -join me in half an hour. I did as he told me, but while I stood at the -corner waiting for him I could hardly get over my surprise. The whole -thing seemed to be a dream. I doubted whether I had really seen my -brother, and whether it was true that he was only a waiter and not an -artist, as I had firmly believed him to be. When the half-hour was over -a young man dressed in the height of fashion came up to me. I felt a -new surprise; the smart young man was my brother. I thought that he had -his day off, and admired the cut and colour of his suit. - -"Do you get tipped so well?" I, pursuing my own thoughts, asked him -after we had shaken hands. - -"Incredible!" he cried scornfully. "How can you be so utterly tactless -as to remind me in such a manner of the miserable profession I am in?" - -"Why do you call it a miserable profession?" - -"Why do I call it a miserable profession?" he repeated very angrily. -"Do you really think that I find a great pleasure in hobbling round -fellows who are not fit to hold a candle to me?" - -"I thought," I remarked, after a little silence, "that you had become -an artist." - -He laughed so terribly that all the passers-by stopped and looked at us. - -"An artist, indeed! That is more than I have ever expected from you. Do -you believe that artists drop from heaven during the night?" - -"Oh no," I replied hurriedly, in order to appease his temper; "I quite -know that it takes many years sometimes before they make a name for -themselves." - -"Then, if you know it, why do you demand that I should be an artist, -when there was never the slightest chance for me to educate myself?" - -"No, of course not. What I thought was that by now you might have found -out which of your capacities is the most eminent." - -"Oh," he answered, with an air of absolute ease and conviction, "there -can be little doubt as to the nature of my abilities. It is quite -certain that I should have made an excellent painter if I had ever -had the chance to learn the different ways of mixing the colours and -using the brush; it is also quite certain that I should have become a -great composer if I had been able to study music; and it is also beyond -all doubt that I should be a pioneer in the field of literature if my -profession permitted the depth of thought and feeling that is necessary -to write in grand style." - -I thought of my own poems, and could not understand him. - -"Why can't you feel and think exactly as other people do?" I asked. - -"Lord!" he cried, and laughed again as terribly as before, "how can -you imagine such a thing? To be locked in between four walls, to -have to carry trays, and to bow and scrape all day long! Can't you -understand that by leading such a miserable life as mine, the soul -degenerates, the brain decays, and the whole being goes down to the -level of a working animal?" - -He had perfectly convinced me now, and although I said nothing he must -have felt his victory. His face grew calm, and pointing at my trunk, he -said: - -"Then you have at last grasped what I meant at our parting, and have -freed yourself from the narrow ways of country life and are willing to -look out for a situation here?" - -I told him quickly what I was about to do. - -"That beats everything," he said, when I had finished. "Have you gone -mad?" - -"Why should I have gone mad? Didn't you tell me yourself that I must -try to get on?" - -"Are you really so silly that you do not understand that you have no -right whatever to go in for such a situation as you have described to -me?" - -"What do you mean?" - -"Are you really ignorant of the fact," he continued, without paying -any attention to my question, "that people like that do not need a -servant, but a ladylike person, somebody who knows how to behave, and -possesses good manners, and can teach them to the children in her -charge? Furthermore, do you not know that you have not a grain of what -is called 'polish'?" - -I gave a little sob, and after hearing that he continued quickly: -"That is, of course, not your fault. Your intercourse with nothing -but country-folk cannot have taught you witty, amiable, and smart -behaviour; cannot have given you that indefinable something which makes -all the difference between an educated and an uneducated person; cannot -have imparted that knowledge to you, without which one is nothing, a -nobody, a mere cipher?" - -I believed every word of it and cried softly. - -"What am I to do?" I asked at last. - -"If I were in your place I should not travel down to Buda-Pesth, but -stay here. I will use whatever influence I have with my friends, and -try to find you a situation. Perhaps you could get a post as cashier -somewhere in a café." - -"No," I said, controlling my tears all in a moment, "I won't do that." - -"Why not? They generally make a lot of money, and a good match at the -end." - -"No," I said again, and shook my head decisively, "I would rather go to -Buda-Pesth." - -He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. - -"He that will not be counselled cannot be helped. What train do you go -by?" - -"By the evening train at eight o'clock." - -"I am sorry to say that I can't see you off then. I have got a -_rendezvous_ at eight o'clock." - -"A randewau?" - -"A _rendezvous_," he corrected. "There you are again; you know nothing." - -After that statement he pulled out his pocket-book and began to write -down something. When he had finished, he tore off the leaf and handed -it to me. - -"There, I have put down for you the most important of adopted words, -which you ought to know because all smart people express themselves -nowadays only in adopted words. Good luck and a pleasant journey to -you." He held out his hand, which I took mechanically, and when I -looked up he had gone. - -I inquired for the station, and went the way indicated by a friendly -policeman. After I had taken my ticket I got into the train which was -standing by the platform, and by the dim light of the compartment I -tried to decipher the slip of paper that my brother had given to me. It -ran as follows: - - - Rendezvous Mélange - Engagement Carrière - Bureau or Comptoir Rouge - Pardon Noir - Toilette Milieu - Banquet Manicure - - -After I had finished reading the paper I folded it up very carefully -and put it into my pocket. At the same time the train began to move and -started slowly onwards. - - - - -Chapter X - - -Mr. Sandor, the owner of the registry-office in Buda-Pesth, had told -me in his last letter that he was going to meet me at the station, and -asked me to carry a handkerchief in my hand. I had passed a perfectly -sleepless night, and when we arrived in Buda-Pesth in the morning I -felt quite stiff, and got out from the compartment rather clumsily, -with my brown canvas trunk in one hand, and a handkerchief in the -other. I looked up and down the platform, and soon observed an elderly -gentleman who hurried up to me. - -"Have you come from Langenau?" - -"Yes," I said, and would have given a world to know what he thought of -me. - -"Do you want a taxi?" he asked, throwing a quick glance at my trunk. - -All the money I possessed did not amount to more than sixpence, and I -shook my head violently at his question. - -"No, no; I would rather walk." - -"Just as you like." - -A few minutes later he asked me whether he might be permitted to carry -my trunk, but again I shook my head. After rather a long way he stopped -at one of the tall, beautiful houses, and I thought it was the house of -the family who had engaged me. - -"Are we there?" I asked, with my heart beating to my very throat. - -"No," he answered smilingly; "here is my own lodging. I have taken you -here first so that you can make yourself a little more tidy before you -are presented to your new mistress. My wife will certainly be pleased -to help you." - -He had opened a door and we entered a pretty-looking room. A lady came -in. She nodded at me very pleasantly, and Mr. Sandor said something to -her in the Hungarian language, which of course I did not understand. -After that he turned again to me: "I leave you with my wife now; as -soon as you are ready I shall be ready too." - -Not until the door had closed behind him, did I understand the -ridiculous position I was in. He expected me to change my clothes, -never suspecting that they were my best. - -"Don't be shy," the lady said; "do just as if you were at home." - -But even if I had been really at home, I could not have done much more. -I stammered that I did not want to change my dress, but should like to -have a clothes-brush, if there was one handy. - -"Of course," Mrs. Sandor replied, "here is one;" and with a smile she -handed to me the desired brush. I used it with clumsy haste and gave it -back. - -"Is that really everything?" she asked me in the same pleasant way as -before. - -"Yes, everything." - -After that she called her husband in. - -"Ready then?" - -"Quite," I replied, and stooping down to lift up my trunk, I said -"Good-day" to Mrs. Sandor, and followed her husband out into the -street. - -We did not go far on this occasion. He stopped at the corner of the -road and told me to follow him into the tram-car, a command which I -found great difficulty in obeying. However, I got in at last, and Mr. -Sandor sat down beside me. - -"I dare say," he commenced after a little while, "my letters were quite -clear to you, and that you are in no doubt as to your future duties. -With regard to your mistress, I do not think that there can be found a -more kind and gentle creature, and I am sure that you will feel very -comfortable in her house. As far as the three boys are concerned, you -will have to find out for yourself the best way to get on with them, -and I hope that you will remain there for a long time." - -He kept on talking in this strain, and in my heart of hearts I wondered -whether I really looked so silly and common a girl as my brother -had thought me. The house to which Mr. Sandor took me was a very -fine-looking building. There was a broad marble staircase, covered -with a costly carpet, which was kept in its place by rods of shining -brass. A smart-looking parlour-maid led the way into a roomy hall, -bidding us to wait. I put my trunk on the floor, and with my heart -beating fast sat down on the edge of a chair. Mr. Sandor seated himself -too, but his heart did not seem to beat any faster. We had to wait for -rather a long time, and I was almost wishing that we might be left -there to wait for ever. But in the very midst of that thought fell the -mellowed sound of footsteps, and a lady entered. I felt so embarrassed -that I could not speak, and stood up terribly ashamed. But she never -looked at me. She spoke to Mr. Sandor in Hungarian, and I grew doubtful -whether she knew that there was anyone else in the room. All at once -she turned her head and looked at me with searching eyes. - -"Are you quite sure that you will like to stay in Buda-Pesth?" she -asked me. I did not quite know what she meant and only bowed my head in -silence. "I am afraid that you might grow home-sick, and I should so -hate to change again." - -"No," I said; "I am sure I shall like it very much." - -Mr. Sandor then said "Good-morning" to the lady, and as he shook hands -with me he begged me not to forget what he had told me. After he had -gone, the lady bade me follow her and led the way into a room that was -furnished completely in white. A table stood in the centre and around -it three boys, whom I guessed to be my charges, were sitting. They got -up as we entered and looked rather shyly at me. - -"Your new governess," the lady said to the children. "Won't you say -'Good-morning' to her?" - -Once alone with the children, my shyness left me. I shook hands with -them and asked a few simple questions which they answered in broken -German. After I had taken off my things, I busied myself at once in -amusing the children, tired though I was. I built houses of paper -on the table, and did various little things to help me to gain some -courage. - -After a few days I grew more reassured, and dropped my shyness even -towards the mistress. I could see that she was satisfied with me, and -since the children also were very fond of me, I no longer felt afraid -of being sent away. - -I had plenty to do. To take the children to school and to fetch them -back again. Also to take them for walks when the weather was fine -enough. The darning and sewing I did when they lay asleep. - -Apart from a burning home-sickness that had taken hold of me and -tortured me especially in the evenings I felt quite happy there, and no -doubt believed that I had found at last what I had been longing for all -my life. There was one thing, however, that darkened the clear horizon -of my days: I had not a single decent dress to wear. It would hardly -have troubled me, but I knew that my mistress wanted me to be dressed -smartly. She had made little remarks sometimes, which, although never -addressed directly to me, gave me to understand that she was ashamed -for her friends--whose governesses looked so smart that I had mistaken -them for mistresses at the beginning--to see me. - -One day my mistress came into the nursery, and, looking around somewhat -discontentedly, said: - -"The children have been invited to tea, but who shall accompany them?" - -I looked at her in surprise. - -"Why, I, of course." - -"Impossible; you can't go there in that blue dress of yours." - -I remembered my brother and what he had told me, and started to fret -again about being sent away. I had not been there for a whole month, -and had not yet received my wages. But my mind was made up that I would -buy a dress as soon as I had my money, and I had already looked in all -the shop-windows in order to choose one. There were several dresses -that I should have liked to buy, but on looking at the price I was so -horrified that I avoided the shop-windows for days afterwards. - -My shoes were wearing out too, and when the thirty-five shillings at -last fell due, there were so many great and little things needed that -the wonderful thirty-five shillings melted down to a few small coppers -before I had been able to think of buying a new dress. - -One evening, when I was busily putting the children to bed, the master -came into the nursery and, after having exchanged a few words with -each of the boys, stepped over to where I was standing and touching my -blouse he said: - -"Don't you feel cold in it?" - -It was a very simple remark, and quite justified too, because it was -cold and the blouse was thin, but the look that he threw at me reminded -me of coarse and ugly words I had often heard before. - -I said that I did not feel cold, and when he reached out his hand again -I stepped back quickly. - -He came in earlier from that day onwards, and spent much time in the -nursery. He talked chiefly with the children, but all the while his -eyes wandered over me, and I felt that each look he gave me was like -a new offense. One afternoon when my mistress was out, the children -at school, and I was sitting in the nursery busy over some mending, -the door opened and the master came in. It was not his wont to leave -his office during the daytime, and bowing my head a little I looked -at him with some surprise. He closed the door very carefully and -leaned against the table. I had taken up my work again, but my fingers -trembled. He did not speak, and the silence became unbearable to me. - -"Why," he said at last, "why don't you look at me?" - -"Because the children need the things," I replied, bending my face -still closer over my darning. - -"Quite so; but if I want to speak to you, you ought to have a little -time." - -I thought that I had been rude, perhaps, since after all he was the -master, so I got up from the chair and looked at him submissively. - -"You know," he said very slowly and with a peculiar inflection in his -voice--"you know that I mean to be kind to you, that your welfare -interests me, and that I would not mind a little sacrifice on my part -if you would only appreciate it." - -I opened my mouth to make some clumsy reply, but with his hand he waved -to me to be silent, and continued: - -"You must know yourself that you are in somewhat pressed circumstances, -and I am quite willing to give you a large advance. There is, of -course, no need that you should mention that to my wife...." And while -he finished the last sentence he produced a small bundle of bank-notes -and put it on the table. - -At that I lost my head and flew into a terrible rage. - -"Take that money away," I shouted, "or I will tear it up!" and because -he did not take it away at once, I flung it at his feet. He stooped -to pick it up, but his eyes as he turned them to me were shining with -anger. - -"I am going to tell my wife at once," he said, "to get a lady and no -servant-girl for my children." - -After that he went. - -I was determined to leave the house immediately, and could scarcely -wait for the evening when the mistress would come in. But before she -came in I received a letter from home that contained most pitiable -news about the financial side of their circumstances. "Could not I -send a little money, just to keep the little ones from starving?" -was their humble yet urgent request. I had received my salary a few -days ago and not spent it yet. I took every penny of it and hurried -to a post-office. After the receipt was handed to me I felt somewhat -relieved, and having hidden it in my pocket very carefully I hastened -home. - -It was getting late and I started to put the children to bed, inwardly -troubled and disturbed because it had occurred to me that I had no -money and could not very well leave my place before another month. I -would not think of looking out for another situation in Buda-Pesth -itself. I had suffered so much from humiliations and home-sickness that -I hated the very sight of the houses and streets. I remembered the -threat of my master, but it left me cold. If they were really going -to send me away it was quite a different thing from casting away the -shelter above my head. - -My mistress returned with her husband at about eight in the evening. -She came into the nursery with her hat and veil on and asked whether -the boys had been good. I answered in the affirmative, whereupon she -left again. I used to take my supper in the nursery. The dining-room -was not far away, and I could hear the clicking of the forks and knives -quite plainly. That evening I listened to every sound, anxious to know -whether they spoke about me. But they never mentioned my name. My -mistress laughed several times, and told her husband about something -in her highly-pitched voice. She always talked loudly, and I was -constantly afraid that she might wake the children when they lay asleep. - -The next morning my mistress treated me quite in the usual manner, and -I felt certain that her husband had said nothing against me. After I -had taken the children to school I tidied the nursery. When I was about -to do the little beds the door opened and the cook came in with a pair -of boots in her hands. I had picked up a little Hungarian by now, and -could make myself understood quite well. The boots were a pair of mine -which I had taken to be repaired a few days before. She told me that -the shoemaker was waiting in the kitchen, and named the price that was -owing for the mending. With a sudden terror I remembered that I had -sent away all my money, and had not a penny left to pay for the shoes. -After thinking for a few moments I told her to give him back the shoes. - -"But," she insisted, looking down at my feet which were in shoes that -certainly were not new, "don't you want them?" - -"Oh yes; but what am I to do? If the lady were in I could ask her to -advance me a little money." - -"What nonsense!" she replied. "It is such a trifle I will let you have -the money with pleasure." - -I wanted the shoes badly, and felt sincerely grateful for her offer. - -"Thank you so much," I said. "You shall have the money back by -to-night." - -"That is not at all necessary. She does not like to advance us money. I -can wait until you get your wages." - -When the lady had returned I did not ask her for money as I had -intended to do. In addition to the remark that the cook had made about -it, I had another reason. I was ashamed to confess that I had sent my -last wages home. - -During the next few weeks I did something that I have never ceased -to regret, and probably never shall. I borrowed more money from the -cook. I certainly never asked her for a large sum, but whenever I told -her that I was in need of twopence, she insisted on giving me ten -shillings, and I spent them as quickly as I received them. In that way -I owed her twenty-five shillings before half of the month was over. It -did not, however, really trouble me. Twenty-five shillings, I reckoned, -still left ten shillings to go home with. However, something happened -which altered my position completely. - -The lady was going to give an evening entertainment, and had invited -about forty people. All sorts of preparations went on all day long, -and the evening promised to be a success. As a matter of course, I -was excluded from the proud assembly in the drawing-room, and stayed -in the nursery as usual. I was sitting on a low chair reading a book, -when I suddenly heard very soft footsteps, and looking up I saw the -master. Without saying a single word he bent over my chair and, taking -my head tightly into both of his hands, he kissed me. After that he -released me, and went out as softly and hurriedly as he had come in. -My book dropped, giving a low, dull sound as it fell on the carpet, -and I sat motionless for a while. Trembling in every limb, I got up at -last, and stepping to my little washstand took a brush, and scrubbed -my face until the skin was rubbed through and the blood showed. Having -done that, I threw myself dressed as I was on my bed, and remained -there till long after midnight. What I had felt during those hours was -no hatred, no anger, but a great inexpressible grief. I awoke in the -morning like one stunned, and did my work mechanically. When I took -the children to school I paid little heed to their talk, but tormented -my brain to find out how to leave that house at once. I remembered the -twenty-five shillings which I owed the cook, and the horrible fact that -my wages were not due for a fortnight. If I was going to leave right -away the money due to me would not even have covered my debt. Where -was I to get the money from that I needed to travel home with? When I -thought of my return to my parents a hot wave of shame swept over me. -I had dreamed of it often and often--how I would come home some day -with many beautiful dresses and costly finery; but as things had now -turned out I was no better off than I was when I had left home. After -a few minutes' thought, however, I felt less concerned about that, and -finally grew utterly indifferent as to my appearance. All I desired -was to have enough money to enable me to pay the cook and to travel -to Vienna. Once there, perhaps my brother might help me to go home. -Yet, much as I reckoned and much as I thought, there was left no other -way out except to earn the money wanted--that is to say, to stay for -another fortnight at that hated place. - -Sick at heart, but calm and composed, I said "Good-morning" to my -mistress an hour later. She yawned as she returned my salute, and told -me how much she had enjoyed the evening, but that she was feeling tired -to-day. - -Once during the morning I went into the kitchen to fill a jug with -water. The cook and the parlourmaid stood together and whispered to -each other. When they saw me they stopped abruptly, and gave me a -disdainful look. They had never looked at me like that, and I grew -uneasy. After I had filled the jug I went back into my nursery, but the -uncomfortable feeling that was roused within me would not be quelled. - -When I returned with the children from school that day, the cook -informed me that her ladyship wished to see me at once. I wanted to -take off the children's coats first, but while I was wrestling with -the arm of the youngest she told me to go at once. - -With mingled feelings of surprise and anger I obeyed. The door leading -to my mistress's room was ajar, and I entered without knocking. As if -she had been waiting for me, my mistress stood in the centre of the -room, fully erect, her dark eyes flashing at me angrily. - -"Must I be told by the servants," she shouted, without returning my -salute, "what a miserable creature I have taken into my house?" And -getting into a terrible rage, she yelled: "Out of my sight, and do not -poison the air here more than you have done already. I give you ten -minutes, after that I will throw you down the stairs if you have not -disappeared." - -I said nothing and asked nothing. I went back into the nursery and -packed up the few things that belonged to me. The children were puzzled -and picked up what had dropped from my trembling hands. When I had -almost finished I stopped and listened. Someone had set up a terrible -noise of crying and lamenting in the kitchen, and a few seconds later -the cook rushed in. - -"My money!" she screamed; "how am I to get my money now?" - -"I am sure I don't know," I replied; whereupon she began to howl like a -hungry beast, and to run like a madwoman up and down the room. But all -at once she grew as quiet as a mouse, and looking up from my trunk I -saw my mistress in the room. - -"What is the matter?" she asked, without giving me a single look. - -The cook explained, and began to howl anew. When she had finished, the -lady turned towards me. - -"You wretch!" she said; "you miserable wretch! And I have suffered you -to sit at my table and breathe the same air with my children for nine -months, you dirty, dirty thing! You----"; and then she said something -which I do not care to repeat. - -I could feel the blood leave my cheeks when I heard the last words, but -I set my teeth and did not speak. Without paying any further attention -to either the lady or the cook I continued to pack my trunk, and when I -had finished I went towards the door. But the lady stopped me. - -"The trunk you leave here," she thundered, "and it is to remain until -you have paid the cook." - -"I have a claim on a fortnight's money," I said; "that she may have, -and I will send her the rest as soon as I get a situation." - -They began to consider the matter, and I heard the lady say that she -would much rather give me the money, in order to enable me to travel -home, since she hated to know that I was in Buda-Pesth. The only thing -to do was to keep my trunk back. After that talk she turned to me, and -threw seventeen shillings on the table. - -"There," she said, in a terrible voice, "out with you, but the trunk is -to remain here." - -I took the money and looked round for the children, but they had left -the room. In the kitchen I met the parlourmaid, who had listened the -whole time. She opened the front door for me, and mockingly bowed me -out. When I had reached the street I ran as fast as I could to the -station, inquired for the next train to Vienna, and, two hours later, -sat in one of its compartments. Pressing myself hard into a corner, -I looked round now and again very shyly and very carefully, because -I thought that I had heard someone call: "You wretch! you miserable -wretch! You dirty, dirty thing! You----." - -I trembled all over with excitement, and closed my eyes; but although -utterly sad at heart, I shed no tears that night. We reached Vienna -the next morning, and for a few moments I thought of calling upon my -brother. But I gave up the idea. Would he not only scorn and despise -me? So I travelled on to Langenau. It was dark when the train steamed -into the well-known little station, and I hastened home. The children -were all fast asleep, but my parents were still up. Both of them were -startled to see me, and besieged me with anxious questions. I said that -the whole family with whom I had been had died. Later on my father -also went to bed, and I was alone with my mother. - -"Where is your trunk?" she asked me. - -I replied that it was going to be sent on to me. - -There was a lengthy pause, during which my mother stared at me -thoughtfully. - -"I believe you have got no luck," she said at last. - -"I am sure I haven't," I said, watching a great black spider that crept -slowly along the wooden floor. - -I stayed at home now, and as I did not care to meet any of my old -acquaintances I never left the house. There was hardly anybody who knew -that I had come back. It is true that I longed to see Miss Risa de -Vall, but since I had no decent clothes in which to visit her I would -not write to her. My mother kept on asking when my trunk would come, -and I answered always, "I expect to-morrow." - -To my great surprise the trunk really arrived about three weeks after. -As a matter of course I was very pleased to have my things back, but -to what kind circumstances I owed it I never knew. The very first -thing I wanted to do now was to obtain a situation. The circumstances -of my parents were no better than their letters had led me to expect. -The rent especially proved to be a burning and everlasting question. -But where was I to take a situation again? At Langenau?--I would not -hear of it. At Krems?--that did not suit me either. I decided to write -to my brother, and to ask him to find something suitable for me. The -letter, however, was never answered, and things grew no better. I -earned nothing, and consequently could buy nothing. A new pair of boots -was once more a tempting suggestion. Not wishing to lose more time, I -had decided to look out for a situation at Krems after all, when the -postman called one day and delivered a letter for me. I recognized at -once the Hungarian stamp, showing the sloping cross and above it the -flying eagle. - -But the handwriting did not seem familiar to me, and fearing that I -was going to be reminded of my debt to the cook, I opened the letter -with some alarm. After I had read it I did not quite know what to -think of it. It was written by Mr. Sandor; mentioning nothing about my -last place he told me of a situation which he had vacant, and which he -thought would suit me excellently. There were only two children--a boy -and a girl, aged between three and five years. The wages were the same. -My parents tried hard to persuade me to accept the offer at once, but -I had my own thoughts about it and could not make up my mind. Another -letter, coming from the same place, was handed to me the next day. Mr. -Sandor wrote that as the matter was very urgent, would I be good enough -to let him know my decision by return of post. - -I put all my things together now, and examined them thoroughly. If -that blouse, I thought, received a new pair of sleeves it might do -quite well at home; and if I sewed a new belt on that skirt, it would -not look so bad. I put aside piece after piece, and decided to start -with the mending at once; but before I sat down to take up the needle, -I wrote to Mr. Sandor that I should certainly feel very pleased to -obtain the situation in question. - -On the day before my departure I could not stay indoors, but went out. -It was evening, and under cover of the growing darkness I visited all -the places that I knew so well and loved so dearly. I passed the house -which we had inhabited after our very first removal, and looked in at -the open gate. The brooklet there flowed through the yard as it had -done at the time when I was a little child; but in the corner, where my -flowers had closed and opened themselves so generously for me, there -stood a kennel, and a large bushy dog darted at me distrustfully. Very -sadly I moved on. The church square had not altered. The church stood -in its centre, dark and quiet as of old, and opposite to it there -loomed up the house of my former friend Leopoldine. All the windows -were illuminated, and the whole building suggested comfort and ease. I -walked on again down to the very end of the street, leaving behind me -all the well-known cottages, together with the dyer's house, until I -reached the graveyard. I used to be afraid of that place when I was a -child, and always avoided it as much as I could, but to-day my heart -was filled with such sadness that all other feelings were overcome by -it. - -Leaning myself against the low grey wall, my thoughts went on freely. -What had life been to me so far? Scorned and avoided ever since I was -a child, with nothing for my own but the quiet thoughts and the secret -dreams. How different this might have been if "he" had come, my prince -out of the fairyland! But he had failed me too. - -And as I stood there staring into the darkness above and beyond the -graves, I saw a vision--a circle of flames, growing into enormous size, -embracing all the world except myself, leaving me outside and alone. - -My parents went to see me off again the next day. On this occasion, -however, I did not speak, and walked to the station almost reluctantly. -When I was seated in the train I neither smiled nor cried, being -utterly indifferent. I did not know that fate was ready for me. - - - - -Chapter XI - - -Mr. Sandor did not come to meet me this time. He told me in his letter -that I would find my way easily now that I knew Buda-Pesth, and, -furthermore, the house of the family who had engaged me was situated -close to the station. I found it to be exactly as he said; after having -crossed the street I reached my destination. - -I had grown very indifferent of late, and mounted the broad staircase -without the slightest trace of my usual embarrassment and fear. - -After I had pressed the button at the door, a maid appeared and asked -me whether I was the new hair-dresser. I thought this was owing to my -shabby dress, my shabby gloves, and my shoes; so assuming an air of -great dignity, I corrected her mistake. She led the way into the hall, -and told me to wait. After a little time she came again and ordered me -into another room. It had green curtains on the windows, and a green -table-cover spread over the table. I expect it was the sight of the -green table-cover that reminded me of my mother's former drawing-room. -In order to make a good impression, I had held myself very straight and -upright on entering the room, but with my thoughts reverting to a time -far away, I forgot my purpose and my shoulders shrank a little, as is -their wont. - -"Are you the new governess?" - -A little confused, I took my eyes from the table-cover, nodded "yes" to -the question, and then looked directly at the gentleman in front of me. - -"You said in your letter that you were twenty-one years of age?" - -"Well, yes, I am twenty-one." - -"You don't look it." - -I told him it was not my fault, and then we smiled at each other. - -He asked me a few other questions, and soon afterwards a tall handsome -woman entered. She was my mistress, and took me into the nursery. It -was early, and the children were not yet dressed; but they looked so -sweet in their nightgowns that I liked them at once. - -My life again became the same as it had been at my other situation. -I occupied myself entirely with the children, played with them, took -them out for walks, and later on to school. Our usual walk was along -the wide and stately Danube, which represented a magnificent picture -with the King's palace and other grand buildings upon its banks. If the -weather was not fine, I used to send the children out on the balcony -that ran all round the square courtyard at the same height as our -apartments. On account of its smoothness it was a wonderful place for -mechanical toys, such as engines, motor-cars, and so on. - -One afternoon I had sent the children out there again, and promised -to join them soon. When, however, I followed, the children had -disappeared. I called their names aloud, whereupon they responded at -once, but still I did not know where they were. - -"Where are you?" - -"Here," they repeated, and while I still stood and listened, a door -that had not so far interested me opened, and my little girl put out -her sweet dark head. - -"Here we are!" she said once more; "do come in." - -I did not know the people who lived there, but thinking that they were -friends of the family I went in. - -The room into which the little one had taken me was occupied by a -gentleman about thirty years old, who was amusing the children with -stamps and pictures. I thought he was alone at home. He saluted me in -fluent German, and with more politeness than anyone had ever shown to -me. - -I controlled my embarrassment, and took the seat he offered me. The -children had entered into an argument as to the possible value of -foreign stamps, and the owner of the room turned to me in conversation. -At first he only spoke commonplaces with a faint touch of irony in -his voice, but he grew grave and interested after I had made a few -remarks. Then we began a discussion, but how we started upon it I could -never remember. Smoking a cigar and leaning back in his chair with easy -elegance, he asked: - -"Intoxication or regret--which is the greater of the two?... Is it -worth the while?..." - -I understood only half of what he meant, and answered that I did not -know. - -Then I told him about my poems, and he listened and smiled, an odd -ironical smile that also I could not understand. At last when I -departed with the children he asked me what books I was reading. - -"None at all," I replied, whereupon he looked surprised. - -"May I get you some from the library?" - -I thought it was very kind of him, and said that I should be pleased. - -A few days later the porter handed me a parcel containing books, and a -slip of paper. - -"I have chosen the books in a great hurry," he had written, "but trust -that you will like them." - -As soon as I could find time I opened one of the books. It was a volume -of novels by Jacobsen, and one of them was called "Morgan." - -I read it all through.... A man--a dreamer, who loves madly a girl -to-day and has forgotten her by to-morrow; and round that man there -moved pictures full of glowing colour and sparkling light. I liked it, -but did not really understand it. - -"Have you read some of the books?" my new friend asked me as soon as we -met. - -"Yes." - -"That novel too about Morgan?" - -"Yes." - -"Did you like it?" - -"I don't know." - -"One of the most beautiful passages is that in which he walks through -the waving corn-field with his young wife." - -"Yes, but I believe he must have been a horrible man." - -"Why that?" - -"So wilful, so restless, so faithless." - -He pulled his soft hat over his forehead, gave me a strange look and -smiled. - -We met almost every day, generally in the morning when I took the -children to school and he went to his office. We rode a little way -together in the tram-car, then I got out with the children and he -went on. During these few minutes we carried on jumpy conversations, -based upon an incident, an idea, or a poem of mine. We talked on -dispassionately as it seemed, until we stopped abruptly as if afraid -that we had said too much. - -By-and-by I began to think of him whether I saw him or not; his face, -his figure rose like a blazing question from the midst of the strange, -wistful dreams that I had dreamt all my life, and something that had -lain within me, dull and senseless like a trance, woke, wondered, and -trembled into joy. - -Once I did not see him for two whole days, and my heart grew so filled -with longing that I wrote a letter to him. Not that I wished to see him -or anything like it. No. What I put down on the paper were thoughts -that had fallen into my soul, rich, like the raindrops that fall down -into a field--visions of such rare, exquisite beauty, that I longed to -share them with someone. - -I was most anxious to see him next day, but did not meet him, nor the -next day, nor the next; on the fourth day, at last.... My first impulse -was to run and meet him, but it was arrested by a sweet bewilderment -that took hold of me whenever I knew him to be near. It seemed as if -he wished to hurry on without taking any notice of me, but then he -hesitated, stopped, and lifted his hat. I was struck by the strange -coolness of his behaviour, and my heart ached within me. - -"How is it," I asked him, "that we see so little of each other?" - -He drew a deep breath and looked away from me. - -"Because it would be very unwise to see more of each other." - -"Why?" - -He did not answer at once. - -"Because," he said at last, "there are wolves in sheep's clothing." - -"I don't understand that." - -"Don't you?" - -"No." - -"I want to caution you." - -"What of?" - -"Of a wolf that runs about in sheep's clothing and whom you trust." - -"Whom do you mean?" - -"Myself." - -The meaning of his words dawned on me at last, but, filled with a -happy, deep-felt trust, I shook my head. - -"You are no wolf in sheep's clothing." - -He drew a deep breath again, just as he had done before, and looked -hard in front of him. - -"You are mistaken. I am a wolf--a heartless, terrible wolf; one that -would never hesitate a second to devour a sheep that comes his way -without a shepherd and a hound." - -I glanced at him, and it seemed to me that his face looked haggard and -worn. I grew very quiet and very sad. The whole world looked dark all -at once, and the joyous song that, like a glorious promise, had filled -my brain and soul ceased with a dissonance. - -But then a minute later it rose again, shy and soft, at first no more -than a quiver, but gaining force and power until it grew into a thrill -of notes so sweet and persuasive that I could and would not check them. - -True that there was something crying within me, but the thing that had -rejoiced before was rejoicing still. - -"Did you get my letter?" I asked him after a while. - -"Yes, and many thanks for it." - -"May I write to you again?" - -He hesitated. - -"May I?" I repeated. - -"Yes." - -It seemed to be wrung from him. - -"And you will write back?" - -He hesitated again, much longer than before. - -"I hardly think so; I mean to say sometimes, perhaps, but never very -much." - -"Only sometimes and never very much!" - -"Yes; and that only on one condition." - -"On what condition?" - -"That nobody shall know of our correspondence." - -"And why?" - -"Because it is best for you." - -"Why for me?" - -And before he could reply a great anger rose within me. - -"You are a coward!" - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"If it gives you pleasure to think that, I will certainly not prevent -you from doing so; an explanation, however, might be useful to you. -It is not on my account that I do not wish to make our correspondence -known, but solely for your sake. A single man is free to do as he -chooses, he can go and turn a girl's head and nobody will blame him; -but you must know that there are different ideas about the conduct of -women." - -"But I don't care." - -"Quite so, but others do care." - -"But I don't mind it." - -"But I do." - -"Then it is for your sake after all?" - -"No, for your sake." - -He stopped and looked at me with stern, decisive eyes. I felt so low -and mean that I was ashamed of myself. What did all of this mean? -There stood a man, and I pleaded and begged for permission to write -to him. And he would let me, graciously let me, if I was content with -his conditions. A wave of bitter anger swept over me. Would he dare -to speak like that to another girl? To the daughter of his superior -or of his friend? Or what else could it be but that he was ashamed -of me--ashamed of the shabby dress I wore and the situation I was -in? Quick as lightning a vision rose before me, a row of girls all -dressed in costly gowns ... and for the first time I felt envious.... -Was he not right after all? What was I? What were my people?... Poor, -wretchedly poor! - -"Leave me," I said, and the torture that I suffered leapt into my -throat; "I will not write to you." - -"You can't do that." - -My sadness turned into wrath. - -"Why can't I?" - -"Because you want me." - -His eyes had lost their stern expression, without, however, losing -their firm, decisive look, and from that look streamed forth a power -more irresistible than any I had ever felt. But I was very proud, very -strong, very free of will, and would not submit, so I turned my back -upon him. - -"I hate you!" I said, and went away. - -When it was late and dark and the children lay asleep, I sat at the -window and looked down the street where hundreds of lamps shed their -gloomy light, and countless people streamed gaily to and fro. They -looked all so different in appearance and manner, and yet so alike -because of the instinct of pleasure that governed them. Their eyes -flashed, their cheeks glowed. They all hurried towards the theatre that -was close by, and their haste and anticipation vibrated in the air like -an electric current. I felt it all and shuddered, and then thought that -I saw a monster of gigantic size with a malicious smile on its lips, -and a malicious light in its eyes, kicking onward and onward the coil -of carriage-horses and people, laughing madly all the while. To get rid -of that horrid picture I closed my eyes and thought of home. There the -children would be lying asleep. Two or three in each bed, so they would -lie ... and mother would be sitting at the table in a cotton-dress -that was mended and patched.... I could almost smell the oil of the -little lamp and see the red flame trembling behind the crooked screen. -And then I saw myself among the children, restless and discontented, -full of a vague longing for somebody to whom I could confide all the -wonderful thoughts and dreams that I constantly conceived, and to which -mother would have responded with a little tortured smile, and father -with a shake of his head, had they known, ... and suddenly I was once -more bound in the spell of those eyes that had looked at me so calmly -and firmly to-day. - -"Because you want me," I heard him say again; and the words that had -seemed so hard--almost brutal--a few hours ago, had now such a soft, -quiet, reassuring touch that I stretched out my arms as if to cling to -them. - -I had written to him, enclosed my latest poems, and he had asked me in -a short note to arrange for a few minutes' quiet talk. I had never yet -met him without the children, and the thought of seeing him alone and -undisturbed made me tremble with a strange delight. On a very clumsy -pretext I asked for an hour off the next day, and arrived punctually. -His salute was very polite, his face very grave. "I have only a quarter -of an hour to spare," he said, "and must tell you at once what I -intended to tell you." His remark that he had no more than fifteen -minutes, whilst I had a whole hour at my disposal disappointed me, and -I hardly answered his opening remark. He, however, took no notice of -my anger and continued: "Many thanks for the letter as well as for the -poems, and it is on account of the poems that I wanted to talk to you. -You had the kindness to let me read some of your poems before, and I -was struck by the talent they revealed to me, but your versification -is as bad as your thoughts and feelings are exquisite. There"--he took -my letter out of his pocket--"you may see for yourself what I mean." - -I looked perplexed at the letter in his hands, but could see nothing, -and asked him to make himself understood more clearly. At that request -he smiled--not, however, the malicious smile of old--and said: - -"The verses lack all shape." - -"Shape?" I asked, astonished and a little hurt. "What shape are they to -have?" - -"Proper shape; the whole versification is wrong. Look here." - -After that he began to read aloud and very slowly, making remarks -in between the lines--such as: "There is a foot short in that line; -and one foot too many in that one; in that other line the time goes -too quick, and here again it goes too slow; the proper metre of the -whole ought to be something like this." He read the poem over again, -but put in the missing feet by syllables of his own invention, and -left out what he thought too much. I had never in all my life heard -anything like it, and listened to every word most attentively. After -the quarter of an hour and a few minutes more had passed we parted, and -I walked home filled with new ideas. As soon as I could find time I -examined more of my verses and discovered the same unevenness in their -construction. - -When I met my friend out on the balcony (I am not sure whether -accidentally or otherwise) a few days later, he handed me two books, a -large one and a small one. "This one here is a grammar of the German -language because--" and now he smiled a kind indulgent smile--"you can't -spell your own language yet ... and this is a book on the construction -of poems. It will tell you more clearly than I am able what you have to -do, and what you must not do in writing your poems." - -I thanked him very much for the books, but when I looked them through -in the evening, I thought the German grammar most tedious, and the book -on the "construction of verses" hopelessly unintelligible. - -"It is impossible," I said to myself, "to write in accordance with -these books; if I had to do it I simply could write no more." I put the -books away, and wrote my poems in the same style as before. A whole -week passed before I saw my friend again, and he asked me at once how I -liked the books. I was rather ashamed to tell the truth about them and -answered that they were all right. - -"Did you write anything?" - -I showed him my last poem. He read it very carefully and then returned -it. - -"The thoughts expressed in it are beautiful as they are always, and it -is such a pity that you don't study the two books a little more." - -"How do you know that?" - -"Well, I can see it; if you had taken the slightest trouble with them -you could not very well have made such great mistakes." - -At first I felt ashamed, but then I grew sulky. - -"The books are both very silly," I said, "and I do not think that I -shall use them." - -"Then you mean to remain a nursery-maid all your life?" - -I dropped my eyes and was annoyed at the way he spoke to me, but in -the evening I studied the books. The theory of poetry I treated with -special attention, and after I had acquainted myself a little more -closely with its many rules and ways, I found out soon enough what was -the matter with my poems. I kept on studying it most diligently, and a -few weeks afterwards I wrote a new poem, for which I got much credit -from my friend. - -"Let me congratulate you on your 'very first' poem," he said. - -His praise had made me boundlessly happy and proud. With terrible -certainty I had comprehended that I was socially far removed from him; -that I could never hold the balance against him; that I was a girl -so poor, so meaningless, whose dreams--nay, not even whose boldest -dreams--were permitted to soar so high. But it was different now. A -feeling of bewildering sweetness told me that this aristocratic man, -to my ideas like a foreign bird with glittering wings, had deigned to -rest himself in the quiet woodlands of my soul, ready to fly away again -as soon as my flowers had faded and my larks had gone away to die. -Realizing the last, I felt a bitter pang. No; that mystic stranger who -by a sweet whim of fate had, as it were, come to stay with me for a -while, must go away no more. No, never. All splendour would vanish, all -brightness would fade, and the heart would forget how to sing. All and -everything would go with him: that glorious expectation, never owned -and all unconscious, telling me softly, softly, a wondrous, wondrous -tale; that strange, delightful embarrassment, that at the sight of -him had often, often set my feet and heart a-tremble; those waves of -infinite tenderness, gushing up suddenly from depths unfathomable--all -and everything would go. Something was roused within me, uplifting -itself against that desolation, growing and growing until it towered -above all anxiety and fear--a new self-consciousness together with a -new strength. Thus I commenced to fight the battle that each woman is -called upon to fight once at least, and which is more formidable than -all the battles of war that have ever been fought by man. - - - - -Chapter XII - - -There was, however, no outward manifestation, deep and passionate -though that struggle may have been. It is true that we met each other -almost every day, but nearly always in the company of the children, -and if it happened that we arranged to meet alone, we had never more -time to spare than perhaps half an hour. By this time his attitude -towards me had entirely changed. The touch of scorn and sarcasm that -had confused and irritated me at the beginning of our acquaintance -had turned into gravity and thoughtfulness. I on my part displayed -much pride and coolness, since his politeness and reserve made me -afraid to betray my feelings, which, after all, were not reciprocated. -What he really thought of me I never knew. He was always so kind, -so concerned, and yet was unmercifully stern and strict whenever my -obstinacy revolted against his will. - -One day I was with the children on the balcony, and my mistress had -also come out for a moment. I sat busy with some mending, when all at -once I felt somebody else was present. Without looking up I recognized -the voice that I knew so well, and my heart beat faster. I thought that -he would come and speak to me. He, however, did not do so, but spoke to -my mistress. At that the blood mounted to my cheeks. "The coward," I -said to myself; "he does not even dare to speak to me." I trembled with -shame and rage, and nothing on earth could have induced me to look up. -Their conversation was short and meaningless, and after a little while -he prepared to go. He departed with a polite phrase from my mistress, -and with a joke from the children; then I heard a door bang, and knew -that he had gone. - -I felt like crying with anger and sadness. Could it be that such a -man was my friend? As soon as I had put the children to bed, I wrote a -note asking him to return all my poems and letters, since I wished to -discontinue our friendship, which I had only now found out had never -been real friendship. I thought he would do at once as I wished, and -was surprised not to hear from him. The days passed by, and after a -whole week had passed the porter at last handed me a note. - -"I should like to speak to you. Pray decide on time and place." - -At first I was determined to send no reply whatever, and kept silent -for two days; then I could stand it no longer, and wrote saying "when -and where." - -"What's the meaning of that?" he asked, producing my letter from -his pocket; whereupon I began bitterly to reproach him. He did not -interrupt me with a single syllable, and so I spoke on and on until I -could say no more. "You are a child," he said at last, looking at me -half sadly, half amused. His apparent indifference angered me anew. - -"Pray," I said with great dignity, "when will you return my letters?" - -His eyes blazed all of a sudden and his lips closed tightly. - -"Never!" - -"But they are my own letters." - -"You are mistaken. The letters belong to me." - -He had stopped in front of me, and his face wore the grave, decisive -look that I knew so well. All my anger melted, and with a little sob -I clung to him. He suffered it for a second only, then pulled himself -together, and looked at his watch. - -"It is time that you should go." - -He spoke as coolly and politely as ever, but the look he gave me was -a wondrous look, and when I went home, stunned as it were, my heart -pondered on a new revelation, half sweetness and half sorrow. - -Later on, I also made the acquaintance of his mother. She was such a -gentle and ladylike woman that I should have adored her even if she had -not been the mother of the man I loved. She spoke to me with great -kindness whenever I met her, and told me one day that she had come -across a lovely book, which she would be pleased to let me have if I -cared for it. A little timid, but all the more determined, I pressed -the button at her door next day. A smart-looking parlourmaid ushered me -into the drawing-room. There the arrangement of the furniture and other -things showed much taste and elegance, and I thought involuntarily of -our own poor lodging at home, of the one room, wherein they all ate, -slept, and wept together. The sound of footsteps made me forget that -doleful picture. My lady smiled at me, asked a few simple questions, -and soon we began to talk. - -"I am rather ashamed," she said, pulling open a drawer, and taking out -some pieces of paper, yellow from age, "but I can't help it. There are -lots of things dating even from my girlhood, and I cannot make up my -mind to throw them away." - -After that she showed me newspaper cuttings of poems, dried flowers, -and many other things, which she stroked softly while pointing out to -me their value and meaning. When at length I prepared to go, she handed -me the book which I had come for; it was a volume of poems by Mirza -Schaffy. - -That visit did not remain the only one. Many and many a time I sat with -her in the cosily black-furnished drawing-room, and when she gazed -at me with that singular, ambiguous look of hers, I often felt like -burying my head in the dark silk robe on her lap and confiding to her -all my sorrow and grief. - -One day I received a letter from home, telling me that they were unable -to find the money for the rent which fell due on January 1 (that was in -a few days), and that all their things would be put out in the street. -The letter worried me terribly; I had sent home small and large sums of -money during the two years I had been at my post, but just then I did -not possess any money worth mentioning. In my imagination I beheld my -parents, sisters, and brothers, shelterless, in a dirty, stormy street, -and so great was my despair that I cried all night. - -In the morning an idea occurred to me that at first I found horrible -and shameful. But it came again and again, grew stronger and stronger, -and when it was time to take the children to school I hoped most -devoutly to see my friend. Nor did I hope in vain. - -"I must speak to you," I said, as soon as I caught sight of him. - -He looked at me apprehensively. - -"I am at your disposal." - -"Not now," I answered, glancing at the children; "I must speak to you -alone. Can you spare time on Sunday?" - -"If there is anything the matter. Why not earlier?" - -I felt immensely relieved. - -"Then to-day?" I asked. - -"Of course, whenever you like." - -After that we appointed the time and place, and parted. But scarcely -had he gone than I began to regret what I was about to do. The whole -thing seemed to me almost madness. - -What right had I to ask him for money? I felt so tortured, so -miserable, and when the time of our appointment drew near, I decided -not to go. Nor did I. Instead, I read that fatal letter over and over -again. It was written by my father, and there was one passage that -ran: "Mother is worn out with crying and fretting, and is not feeling -well of late. What we are to do if we really have to move out into the -street, I do not know. They would never take us into the alms-house, -because we do not belong to Langenau at all." - -I put my face on the table and wept bitterly. All at once I decided -to do what I had meant to do, and looked at the clock. It was a whole -hour late for the meeting we had arranged, and I could not expect to -find him still waiting. Controlling my sorrows as well as I could, -I went about my duty. That evening I was alone, my mistress having -gone to the theatre, and after I had put the children to bed I grew -so terribly anxious again--chiefly about my mother--that I decided -to wait no longer. But what could I do? Surely he was not at home; -and even if he happened to be in, could I go and ask for him? Though -almost certain that it was perfectly useless to look for him, I went -out on the balcony and noticed, half-mad with delight, a light burning -in a little room situated one floor higher, where he used to develop -photographs, to mend watches, and so forth. I walked upstairs, hardly -conscious of what I was doing, and knocked at his door as softly as if -I did not wish to be heard. He had heard me, however, and called "Come -in," whereupon I pushed the door open and entered hesitatingly. Inside -the room I pressed myself hard against the wall, and could not speak. -He had laid aside his work at once, and looked at me with questioning -eyes. - -"Will you not speak?" he at length urged softly. - -After that I told him my little tale in great haste, though sobs -interrupted me. While telling him all, it occurred to me that after -knowing my people's history so well he might not wish to be my friend -any longer, and I gazed at him anxiously when I had finished. His face, -however, relieved my fears. His eyes wore the thoughtful, apprehensive -look that I had noticed several times before, and his lips smiled the -kind, well-known smile. - -"How much do you want?" - -"Very, very much," I said blushingly. - -"How much?" he urged. - -"About a hundred shillings," I confessed, thinking that a hundred -shillings was an enormous sum. - -He put his hand on the handle of the door, and looked at me -entreatingly. - -"They might be looking for you, and you must go; the porter will hand -you all you want to-morrow." - -But I did not go. Pressing myself still harder against the wall, I -looked up at him, and my lips trembled as I said: - -"Are you cross with me for having asked you?" - -"You are a child," he said with great decision; "let me tell you once -and for all that I am your friend, to whom you not only _may_, but -_must_, confide all your troubles"--his face wore the entreating look -again--"but go now, please." - -I obeyed as if I was in a dream. - -The porter handed me an envelope the next morning, and when I tore it -open I saw that it contained neatly folded bank-notes. - -From that day onward I felt boundlessly grateful towards my friend, -loved him, if such was possible, more than I had done before, and could -hardly control my affection whenever we met. He, however, remained the -same. - -To him my poems were the sole and constant source of conversation, and -perfect though I thought them, he was far from being satisfied. - -Now and again he would acknowledge the beauty of a thought or verse, -and the slightest praise from him was sweet reward to me. - -There were, of course, still times when our opinions differed, when I -grew sulky and obstinate, and even went so far as to behave with the -rudeness of a naughty child. But he never lost his composure; it was -generally his calmness and silence that made me conscious of my fault, -and I never failed to beg his pardon as soon as I had realized that I -was in the wrong. - -He on his part was always ready to forgive me, and our friendship was -established firmly once more. - -But in my heart of hearts I was discontented. - -"Why," I said to myself, "does he not tell me the one thing that alone -is able to make a woman truly happy? Why does he not give me the -slightest sign of his love? Or does he not love me?" That question made -my limbs shake as if I had received a terrible shock, and many times I -sat up in my bed at night staring, with my hands crossed tightly in the -darkness around me. - -Was there, perhaps, another girl of whom he thought, as I thought of -him every hour of the day? - -I shuddered at the inexpressible loneliness that would fall to my lot -if such were the case, recalled every word, every look of his, and -lay, testing, weighing, wondering, until all thoughts had merged into -confusion and my eyelids closed. - -One day we had arranged to meet alone. I was so impatient that I -arrived half an hour before the time fixed for the appointment, but he -was already waiting for me. Both of us had more time to spare on this -day, and I hoped secretly that he might at last speak. - -He did speak, but what he said was not what I had expected to hear. He -told me of his boyhood, of his more mature years, and of a first love -that had left him disappointed with life. - -I listened to all without really realizing what he said, my head -throbbed, my heart ached, recognizing one wish only. - -"There is no need for him to change his manner towards me; all I want -him to do is to let me know," said something within me. I stopped and, -laying one hand on his arm, looked up at him in anguish. - -"Tell me why you do so much for me?" - -It seemed that his face grew pale and stern. - -"Because I am your friend." - -"And is that everything?" I asked again. - -"Everything," he replied, shaking my hand off his arm. - -After that I remained so still that I thought that I heard the beating -of his heart and mine. But all at once a voice roused me, a voice that -revealed to me new depths of his soul, a voice composed of torture and -pain, which bridged the way back to happiness and joy. - -"Do you really want to hear that phrase?" he said. "You are too good -for it; I have made a vow never to remember that you are a woman." - -I stood in silence by his side. My eyes looked into the far distance -and my thoughts measured years to come--years during which we would -give each other all the treasures of heart and soul without ever -getting any the poorer--years during which neither of us would know the -pangs of remorse, the blushing with shame--years during which I would -suffer all that a woman may suffer. - -"Do you trust me?" he asked. - -"Yes," I answered simply; and we grasped each other's hands in -silence.... - -The time that followed now I can never describe. Our meetings, short -though they were, were so filled with embarrassed happiness, with timid -tenderness, that no colour, no brush, no pen, could ever do them full -justice. - -But there were hours of quite a different nature too. Hours when -strange moods got hold of us--hours when he pulled himself up, just -as if to shake off something--hours when his eyes lost their tranquil -light, and looked dark and gloomy--hours when the beast was roused -within him. Then I felt and understood vaguely the strength of his -passion, and grew almost afraid of him. If he forgot his vow for a -single moment only, then woe to our friendship and woe to me! - - - - -Chapter XIII - - -A whole year passed in this way, and I believe without doubt that I was -truly happy. A dull sense of fear, however, had gradually got hold of -me. No more did I sit down to my books when the children lay asleep, as -my habit had been, but sat crouched in a corner, brooding over thoughts -that would be ignored no longer. - -"What would be the end of it all?" - -I shuddered when I remembered the strange, sad looks he gave me -sometimes. Would it be possible to carry our friendship unsullied -through the flames of passion? And then the question rose again, -which I had believed to have silenced for ever, with many a beautiful -phrase--the question of all Philistines! - -"Why does he not marry me? Why not?" - -On account of my poverty, and my humble station in life! But could such -things come into consideration if a man loved a woman truly? And love -me he did, or else how could I account for the interest he took in me, -and for his ever ready and never failing devotion? I tried to find -something similar among the girls I knew. There was, however, nothing -similar. Whenever they touched upon matters of the heart, they smiled a -cunning little smile that only disgusted me, but never made me any the -wiser. - -My poems began to be of a meditative, doleful, over-subtle nature, and -he, round whose figure revolved all my dreams, my thoughts, my verses, -criticized and corrected the lines, that held all the unspeakable woe -and longing of my soul, criticized and corrected them with an odd -smile on his face sometimes, and with looks grave, sad, far away, at -other times. And then there came nights which brought no slumber to -me; nights when I lay awake till daybreak, asking myself that one -dull, torturing question, over and over again, until at last its answer -flashed quick as lightning into my brain.... - -One day when we met again, he said: - -"I am not quite satisfied with your progress." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Simply that you are treating one subject in your poems over and over -again. That is, of course, not in the least surprising, since you limit -your experience of people and their ways to one place only." - -My heart beat faster, but I succeeded in hiding my emotion, and -answered with some hesitation: - -"I, too, have thought of that already." And then I added still more -hesitatingly: "And I should like to go away." - -We looked at each other now and knew that we lied; but the redeeming -words that were in heart and throat died away before the feigned -indifference on our faces. - -"Where to?" he asked at last. - -But I shrank back now--the die was about to be cast; all the dog-like -attachment and faithfulness of my sex broke loose, all the ardent -desire of happiness that had been waiting quietly and submissively for -so long stood up, every beat of my heart, every thought of my brain -said "No." The minutes passed and I made no answer; testing, like a -sounding lead, his looks searched my soul, and all at once I saw how -his lips twisted, and there it was again, the old malicious smile that -I had grown to hate and fear so much. I never understood it before, -but comprehended it now all in a moment. He did not consider me strong -enough to part from him; more, he considered no woman strong enough to -part from the man she happened to love; nay, more, he despised every -woman, every girl that lived, and, knowing that, I knew also, that not -even an atom of his soul belonged to me so far, that the battle which I -had taken up instinctively, as it were, was not yet by any means won. - -"Where to!" he asked again. - -With the quick instinct of someone hunted I realized my position, and -now I smiled in spite of the tears that sprang up behind my eyelids. - -"To England." - -"Why to England?" - -"Because I speak a little English and should like to know it perfectly." - -"Do you know anybody in London?" - -"No; that, however, matters little; all that matters is the money for -the journey." - -After that he grew very grave and was silent for a long while. - -"You know," he said at last, "that you have a friend." - -A few days after that conversation I fell ill with inflammation of the -lungs, and had to spend several weeks in the hospital. At last when -I had recovered the doctor told me that I was not strong enough for -a situation, but needed careful nursing and entire rest in order to -effect a complete recovery. - -"Could you not go home for some time?" my mistress asked me. - -"Where was my home?" I thought to myself. - -But far too proud to tell her, I agreed, and left Buda-Pesth behind me -for the second time. - -My parents had moved to Vienna in the meantime. They had not told me -much about the change, and in my heart of hearts I wondered what the -new shop and the new lodging would be like. When I arrived there, -however, I became very down-hearted. It was a picture of misery and -desolation. The shop was very small and almost empty, and the lodging -consisted of a single room that contained nothing but a little -iron stove, one or two beds, a table, and a chair. Moreover, being -underground, it received but little air and light. My father was alone -at home, and after having greeted him I asked for my mother. He told -me that she had taken a place as charwoman, and would not be in before -eight o'clock in the evening. Without taking off my hat or my jacket, I -sat down on one of the beds and listened silently to all that my father -said. I had heard the same over and over again, and now I listened to -it once more. - -"Do you think that you will have room for me?" I asked at last. - -"Of course," he replied; "but you will have to sleep in one bed with -the children." - -"Where are the children?" - -"Out making money." - -"How?" - -"They are selling papers." - -"As soon as I feel better I will work too." - -"The main point is that you should be well again." - -I looked round the small, badly-aired room. - -"I am afraid I shall never get well here." - -"Since mother is away from home all day long, I am doing the cooking," -he said; "and I think a cup of coffee will do you good." - -After that he broke some brushwood across his knees, and laid the fire -in the stove. But as soon as he had put a match to the stove it began -to smoke terribly. - -"That's only from the draught," my father said apologetically; "it will -soon pass off." - -And so it did, but not before the whole room was clouded. - -My eyes smarted and my throat felt sore, but I said nothing, and drank -the coffee that my father handed me in a cracked cup. I thought of my -brother, and could not understand how it was that he gave them no help. - -"Where is he?" I asked aloud. - -"Who?" - -"Charlie." - -At that my father grew very sad. - -"It is very unfortunate," he replied, "but he has been out of work for -sometime." - -"Where is he?" - -"He is living with us of course." - -I looked round the room again, and my father, who guessed my thoughts, -shrugged his shoulders. - -"It can't be helped; it must do for us." - -Later on my mother came in with the children, who, after having sold -their papers, had watched for her at the house where she did her work. - -When the scanty supper was over, and it grew late, my brother arrived. -I was greatly shocked. He had changed completely. His face looked pale -and haggard, black circles were around his eyes, his hair hung wildly -over his forehead, his figure was lean, and his movements had lost all -their former gracefulness. - -I controlled as well as I could the effect which this sad sight had -produced upon me, and shook hands with him. - -"I am afraid," he said, with the same touch of cynicism in his voice -which I had noticed whenever he had spoken to me before--"I am afraid -that you won't very much enjoy staying with us." - -"As soon as I have recovered," I answered, "I will put everything in -order." - -"Put everything in order," my brother shouted, shaking with laughter; -"do you really think that this man"--he pointed to my father--"would -ever allow such a thing? Let me tell you that your honourable papa is -extremely fond of dirt." - -For the second time in my life I saw the vein of wrath swell on my -father's forehead. - -"Stop it!" he shouted; "do you hear?" - -"Yes," my brother replied, and made himself ready to fight. - -I sprang to my feet and placed myself with clasped hands before my -father. - -"Pray do not listen to what he says," I cried between my tears and -sobs; "you know that I do not believe a single word of it." - -"For your sake," my father replied; then his clenched fists dropped and -he left the room hurriedly. - -"He is, of course, acting the offended part now," my brother continued -in the same scornful way as before, "and I hope for goodness' sake that -you will not be influenced by this comedian and feel pity, which would -be ill-placed in his case. You have been away these last years and have -had no opportunity to get to know him fully. I, however, see through -his game, and so will you after you have spent some time at home. At -present you may see in me a scoundrel or something near to it, but I -can assure you that although circumstances compel me to live under the -same roof with these common people, I am still the gentleman that I was -before. Schiller says somewhere in his dramas, a jewel remains a jewel -even should it happen to get mixed up with dung. As it is, I am a man -whom life has cruelly disappointed only because his ideals were too -fine and his dreams touched heaven. It is true that I am perhaps one -of the most questionable creatures to-day, but wait for half a year, -or say a year--my head is filled with ideas which will, when worked -out, affect like an explosion our entire code of laws, together with -the whole life as we conceive it to-day. Outwardly I am a waiter, a -rogue, or whatever you like, but inwardly I am at work on a kingdom for -millions of beings who now toil away half-starved in obscurity--and -that kingdom of mine holds a crown for everyone." - -"It strikes me that you should first have one for yourself," I said. - -My brother shrugged his shoulders. - -"I can scarcely expect you to understand my point, since you are still -too much swallowed up by the mud of your origin, and therefore utterly -incapable of following my ideas. The great doctrine of reincarnation -is all Greek to you, and you can hardly see that according to its -teaching I am your brother only by chance. As little do you dream that -most probably I have been a powerful conqueror, or creator of kingdoms, -centuries ago. My great hope of being proud of you some day has, alas, -proved to be as fictitious as all my other hopes have proved themselves -to be, and I must now alone--great men have ever stood alone--carry out -my task." - -My mother, who most probably was used to such speeches, had gone -fast asleep on her chair, and I went out to see what had become of -my father. I found him in a dingy-looking, badly-smelling courtyard, -and begged him to come in. He went back into the room with me, and no -further quarrels ensued that night. Later on my father and my brother -prepared to go to sleep on the floor. - -I had laid myself down on one of the torn mattresses, and had closed -my eyes at once in order to make them believe that I had gone to -sleep. As soon, however, as all were silent I sat up and looked round -in wild despair. My mother, tired of her daily work, slept soundly, -and I listened to her breathing for a while. Then I glanced over -to where my brother lay. He looked now even leaner and taller than -before, and his face, all unguarded, showed such a strange expression -of disappointment, woe, and pain, that for the moment I forgot his -vanity, his brutality, his arrogance. A great pity sprang up within me -for his early-spoiled youth, his strange, passionate nature lashing -him, as it were, never granting him a second's rest nor reconciliation -to his fate. He hated my father because he thought that bad management -of the business had been the reason for all our misfortune. But he was -wrong. I knew for a certainty that my father had given large credit to -people who afterwards did not pay, and the natural consequence of it -was that he himself became unable to pay for the goods he had received. -Besides all that, there were the large number of children and other -matters, which would have melted a bigger capital than my father had -ever possessed. It is true that one might say there was no need for him -to give credit to people who could or would not pay, but he was too -generous and too good-hearted to refuse. Being himself a child of the -poor, he understood the bitterness of want, and if he had given way too -much to such feelings, he had, God knows, not escaped punishment. - -I could not for a long time take my eyes from my father and my brother, -who now slept so peacefully side by side as if an ill word had never -passed between them. - -My mother had to leave home very early next morning, and after the poor -breakfast was over, my brother seated himself at the table and called -my two little brothers to him. - -"Come on, you lazy-bones; go and get your books!" he shouted, after -which they produced a few dirty books from a corner. My brother then -commenced the lesson with them; he was, however, very rude, and boxed -their ears for trifling things. Once he gave the youngest a brutal -kick, at which I sprang to my feet and, placing myself with clenched -fists before him, said: - -"Don't you touch him again!" - -My brother fell into a terrible rage. - -"That's the thanks I get from you, I guess," he roared, "for spoiling -my whole career in giving up my time to educate the boys, a thing which -it is true you all consider superfluous. Do you believe that I can -quietly see them grow up and become such rogues as I have become, only -because I have had no education? Where are you, you dogs?" he shouted, -turning to the table again. - -But while he had been disputing with me the boys had run away. - -"There you are," he said to me, "they are no more afraid of the devil -than they are of books. Like sire, like son! The boys are not a bit -better than their honourable begetter. However, I trust I shall be able -to steady them yet, and will see who is the master here." - -After he had for a while scolded and reproached me for my -incomprehensible shortsightedness in taking the part of these miserable -boys, he reached down a shabby felt hat and disappeared. - -When he had left my father entered the room; I could see that he tried -to avoid the company of my brother as much as possible. - -"What are you going to do?" I asked him, because he was putting on a -large blue overall. - -"I am going to tidy the room, and after that I am going to cook." - -He took a broom and began to sweep the floor. I would much rather have -done it myself, but the weariness in my knees was so great that I -could hardly stand up, so I remained seated on the edge of the bed and -watched him silently. After a while I asked him: - -"Have you thought over where I shall go to?" - -"Well, the best thing for you to do would be to go into the country." - -"But that must not come too expensive." - -"You might go up to the mill. I saw uncle last week, and they would -certainly be pleased to have you there for some time." - -My joy was very great. I had not been there for so many years, and the -thought of strolling once more through those lovely meadows filled me -with delight. - -"There is only one thing," my father continued, scratching his head -in some embarrassment, "the fare will amount to at least four to five -shillings, but I must try and get the money somehow." - -"That is not necessary; I have got as much myself." - -"Well, then there are no further difficulties, and if you will tell me -when you want to go I will write immediately." - -I should have liked best to go at once, but since I did not want to -arrive there unexpectedly, I decided to stay at home for a week. During -that week I suffered terribly. The violent scenes between my father and -my brother drove me almost mad with anxiety and fear. I hailed the day -of my departure with the greatest joy, and spent five quiet weeks with -the very aged relations of my mother. - -The pure, lovely air, together with the sunshine and the wonderful -tranquillity all around, soon made me feel better, and I was able to -walk again without pains in my knees. As soon as I felt better I asked -myself: "What now?" The thought of remaining at home was unbearable -to me, and yet I considered it to be my duty to stand by my parents in -their troubles. I turned the question over and over again in my mind, -but much as I thought and much as I reasoned, there was no way out. "I -must stay at home," I said to myself, "to work for them, and the sooner -I begin the better for us all." - -With that resolution I returned to Vienna. The conditions of my parents -were, of course, still the same, and I was very anxious to find work -in order to contribute to our livelihood. After looking about for some -time, I obtained a situation during the afternoons to look after a -boy of nine years of age, whose mother had come over from America and -intended to stay in Vienna until January. - -But bravely as I worked, and much as I tried to feel happy and -contented, I was far from being so. The common misery, and more than -that the quarrels between my father and my brother which were ever -sought for by the latter, affected me greatly, and my scarcely -recovered health began to fail again. When I came home in the evening -I used to sit down at the small window and stare out in the little -courtyard, which was surrounded by a grey, massive wall, at the top of -which, looking like a roof, hung a piece of sky. - -It happened many times that I still sat there after the courtyard -wall and sky had long become invisible, and a single lonesome gas-jet -timidly streamed forth its cool, pale, trembling rays through the -darkness. - -But when I knew myself alone, I burst into tears--into those tears -which, in spite of all their bitterness, soothe and relieve. - -My mother often looked at me with sorrowful, troubled eyes, but the -only answer I made to her silent questions was a woeful little smile. - -"What could I have told her?" She did not know that another thing -tortured me besides the misery of poverty that we all shared. She did -not know him, nor would she have understood it all. So I suffered on, -and suffered inexpressibly. Now and again I received a letter from -him--cool, formal lines, containing sometimes in a light, casual way -the question, "What was I going to do?" - -I read these notes a thousand times, hid them away like costly -treasures, and reflected in a helpless, stupid manner on the wonderful -endurance and submission of a girl's love. And once in the midst -of these reflections I remembered suddenly the little story called -"Morgan" which he had given me first to read--remembered the man -full of restless desire, the dreamer, the idealist, the conqueror, -the despiser, who was by the purity and virtue of a woman brought to -acknowledge "love" at last. And whilst I yet pondered over it, my heart -grew strangely calm. - -"Mother," I said the same evening, "would it not be far the best if I -went away again? I would, of course, send home my monthly wages, so -there would be no difference in the money, and one less to feed." - -My mother gave me a quick, uncertain glance, and said in a singular, -hesitating manner: "You want to go back to Buda-Pesth, don't you?" - -I felt my heart beat to my very throat, but my eyes, as they looked -into hers, did not waver. "No," I answered, "I want to go to England." - -At first it seemed that she was relieved from some secret fear, then -her face looked the same again. - -"Yes, it would be far the best," she replied, in the tired, tormented -voice of those who had given up all hope. - -When everyone had gone to sleep, I sat down to write to my friend. -Trembling with excitement and haste, repeating the same thing over -and over again, I asked him to send me the money to go to London. His -answer arrived two days later--lines so full of tenderness, readiness, -and devotion, that the tears thronged into my eyes. "Would I not -arrange to see him before I went away?" he asked at the end. But of -that I would not think. I knew the charm, the power of his eyes, and -trembled for my victory so hardly won. - - - - -Chapter XIV - - -London, terrible, magnificent London, to my eyes like a huge monster, -moving countless fangs in countless directions. I walked along, -stunned, benumbed, dazzled as it were, with neither feeling nor -thought, just shrinking a little when I saw the frail figure of a -paper-boy slip through the mass of carriages and horses, risking his -life a hundred times in order to catch a single copper. And yet, if he -had been crushed by the wheels of a motor, or by the hoofs of a horse, -would that have mattered? The wave of pleasure and corruption would -rush onward, and only in a dingy little room a pale, ragged woman might -grow still a shade paler if by the break of dawn her boy had not come -home. And realizing that, something within me revolted; I thought of -Him in whose honour we are reverently building altars of gold, burning -incense, and all at once to me He lost His glory. - -Was He not sleeping within a leafy bower, drunk, and forgetful of His -World? - -And was there nobody who dared to rouse and sober Him? - -The next second I was myself again. A silken gown rustled, a silver -horn whistled, and people next to me laughed. Feeling very tired and -shivering with cold, I longed for shelter and rest. At last, after -much asking and useless running here and there, I found a cheap German -home for young girls. My limbs were trembling, and I could hardly -stand when I was shown into the room of the directress. I remained on -the threshold for a few minutes, so sweet and pleasing to me was the -sight of that cosily furnished place. All was softness and luxury; a -profusion of carpets, cushions, and easy chairs around a sparkling -fire. On a little table there was a vase with fresh flowers, and in a -cage near by a little yellow bird was swinging to and fro. Next to -the fire there sat an elderly lady, with shawls round her shoulders -and shawls on her knees. I felt like sitting down, closing my eyes, -and saying nothing. However, the lady told me not to sit down because -my wet clothes might soil the covers or the cushions. So I remained -standing, and answered her questions as precisely as I could. - -"Is it a situation you want?" - -"Yes." - -"And to stay here while you are looking for something suitable?" - -"Yes." - -"You could hardly have found a better place than our worthy home, but -before I regard you as one of its occupants, I must ask you if you have -got sufficient money to last you for at least two months, in case you -should find no situation before then. Our home is a most respectable -home, and I could not think of taking in anybody with a doubtful -character." - -As my friend had not only sent me enough money for the journey, but -also a larger sum for ordinary expenses, I told the directress that -my money would last for the board, but in my heart of hearts I was -determined not to stay there for two months. - -After having settled everything to her satisfaction, she pressed a -button, and ordered the entering servant to take me to my room. This -time there was no need for me to fear that I might soil any covers or -cushions. The room looked cold and grey, and seemed to be as damp and -dreary as the foggy streets themselves. It contained a few wardrobes -let into the wall, a few washstands, and eight beds. - -"Are the beds all occupied?" I asked the maid. - -"Of course," she replied, gazing at me with some surprise. - -A little later the home filled with girls of all ages, and when the -supper-bell rang, the dining-room was crowded with about two hundred -girls. After supper, at which the girls were very noisy, we had to go -into another room for prayer. On a footstool knelt the directress, -with her eyes raised up devoutly to the ceiling. She began to recite a -series of prayers, at the end of which we all sang a hymn. Then the -directress folded her hands once more, and said: - -"O Lord, take care of all the helpless young girls that are in London -without shelter and protection" ("And without money," I thought to -myself). "Guard their footsteps to prevent them from stumbling, and -have mercy on those who have, alas! stumbled already. O most holy -Lord, grant our humble prayers, enlighten the blind, and protect the -defenceless. Amen." - -She looked very sweet and dignified as she knelt there, with her white -head bowed reverently, and lost in prayer as it seemed. After a little -while she got up and walked out. The girls followed her, laughing and -pushing each other; they went up to their bedrooms, and I now became -acquainted with the other occupants of my room. I did not care for -them. They laughed continually, telling one another shameless stories, -and I knew from their conversation that they were mostly chamber-maids -and had come from Switzerland. - -"Have you only arrived to-day?" someone asked me. - -I turned round to the speaker, and saw that she was a girl of my age. -Without knowing exactly why, I asked myself whether she was pretty -or not, and while I answered her, I thought about the question I had -put to myself, and decided at last that she was pretty. She had large -bright eyes and auburn hair; her face was well-shaped, yet there was -something in it to which I could not get used. What it was, however, -I could not tell. She asked me a few other questions, and I inquired -whether it was possible for me to find a situation soon. - -"What kind of situation do you want?" - -"I don't at all mind," I answered. - -"As you do not seem to be so very particular, I think you will find one -easily." - -Later on I noticed that she slept in the bed next to me. I liked her -best of all the girls. When she got into bed she rubbed her hands with -glycerine, that was all. The others took far more trouble in getting -ready for the night. Midst laughing and joking they took off their -false plaits, etc., and throwing the things on their beds, they began -to dance about on them. At ten o'clock the light had to be put out, but -the girls became none the quieter for that. They had so many things to -tell each other, and several times, when I was on the point of going -off to sleep, their laughter woke me again. - -By-and-by, however, the stories grew shorter, their jokes less -frequent, and at last they all slept the sound, peaceful sleep of -heedlessness. Although the girls had not made a very good impression on -me, I was glad to rest my tired limbs, and while I listened to their -breathing, my soul filled with almost happy thoughts. - -On the following morning we had to assemble again for prayer, and I -noticed that they were different from those of the evening before. Each -girl having received a Bible, we formed a circle. Then the directress -began to read a passage out of the Bible, and we had in our turn to -continue. - -When it was my turn I read: - -"And of the rest of the oil that is in his hand shall the priest put -upon the tip of the right ear of him that is to be cleansed, and upon -the thumb of his right hand, and upon the great-toe of his right foot, -upon the blood of the trespass offering." - -At the end the directress again prayed for the "poor helpless girls," -and after that we were free for the day. As soon as I had got up from -my knees, I went over to the directress and asked her to give me an -address at which I might inquire for a situation. She motioned me to -follow her. In her room she sat down, and looked at me thoughtfully. - -"You want to look for a place already to-day, don't you?" she said. "I -can quite understand that you are in some hurry; but, as I have agreed -to take care of your soul, I cannot let such an earnest matter as this -one pass without giving you a little motherly advice. So many girls -arrive in London daily, who have left their homes in the sweetness -and innocence of their youth, and who return home quite otherwise. -Therefore I should like to know that you are prepared for all dangers -which might threaten you. Will you promise to pray to God to take care -of you, to assist you, to counsel you, to lead you?" - -I promised everything. - -"There, then, are several addresses where you may try to find something -suitable, and I only hope that you will be received into the bosom of a -God-fearing family." - -I thanked her very much for the slip of paper she had handed me, and, -after I had left her, I sprang upstairs to get my hat and coat. Several -of the girls were just putting on their hats, and asked me where I was -going to. I told them, whereupon they replied that they wanted to go -to the same place, and that I might come with them because they knew -the way. Although I felt sincerely grateful for their offer, I was -annoyed at the time they took to put on their hats. There was only one -looking-glass in the room, and this the girls surrounded, adjusting -their hats by the aid of hat-pins, of which they possessed incredible -numbers. Whenever I thought that they had at last finished, they took -off their hats again, declaring that they did not look their best -to-day, and tried all means and ways to look it after all. I stood -there waiting for them with my quiet little hat on my head and felt -terribly impatient. I longed to find a situation in order to be able to -leave the home. The others, it is true, did not seem to have a similar -wish. Apparently they were quite contented, even happy, and cared -little whether they got a situation or not. A fair girl who was so tall -that she towered above the others had given a bold sweep to her great -black transparent hat, and was now trying it on. - -"Do you find it becoming like that?" she asked, after which she had -to turn round and round, and was assured eventually that it was very -becoming. - -Just when I thought that she looked horrid, she turned to me and said: - -"Hurry up, little one; we are almost ready." - -"I have been ready for a long time," I answered in surprise. - -But now it was her turn to be surprised. - -"Surely you don't mean to go out like that?" - -"Well, of course." - -At that they all laughed, and, after having cooled down a little, one -of the girls said: - -"You don't seem to know London ways yet, and we shall have to do a -little for you. In such clothes you will never get a situation; I can -give you that by writing, my dear." - -"But what am I to do?" - -"Leave her alone," the fair girl intervened; "she who does not possess -chic by nature will never acquire it." - -The others seemed to agree with this, and said no more about me. When -all of them had their hats on, they began to hunt in their trunks and -bags for such things as a pair of gloves without holes, a handkerchief -that was clean, and so forth. - -At last they were ready to go, and I kept behind them in the street -because I thought they were ashamed of me. The remark, however, that -one of the girls had made--namely, "that she could give it to me by -writing," that I would never find a post in such clothes--haunted and -troubled me. - -It was most important for me to find a situation as soon as possible -if I did not want to ask for more money from my friend. And that I -would not do. I had sent him a few cards during the journey, but was -going to write him a long letter as soon as I knew how matters stood; -and so full was I with that one thought that to-day I cared little for -what went on around me. Only once when we went over a mighty bridge did -I stop, and look enraptured at a swarm of greyish birds such as I had -never seen before. They were sea-gulls. - -After much wandering which made me very tired and recalled to my memory -the old pains in my knees, the girls stopped at last in front of a -beautiful house and entered gaily. I followed them into a large room, -and on the benches and chairs there sat girls who apparently were also -looking for situations. At a writing-desk an elderly lady and a young -girl were sitting and writing diligently in large books which were -placed in front of them. - -The girls were called up one after the other, and after those who had -been there when we arrived had gone, it was our turn. - -The tall, fair girl went up first and sat down with affected dignity. - -"What I want," she said to the inquiry of the elder lady, "Is a place -where I should get enough spare-time to see my friends at and away from -home; also I do not wish to have charge of more than one child, not -older than twelve, and not younger than six years." - -The younger lady at the desk put down the notes; but the elder one -smiled politely, and said she was sorry, but there was nothing suitable -at present. Shrugging her shoulders, my fair friend left the chair, and -another of the girls explained what she wished to get, and what she -did not wish to take. But she, too, was sent away with a polite phrase -only. After they were all told that nothing suitable was to be had at -present, they prepared to go, and went away together without giving me -another look. I felt greatly relieved when they had gone; and because -it was now my turn I stepped near the desk. - -"I expect you have only just arrived." - -"Yesterday." - -"I am afraid you had a bad crossing, you look so pale." - -I told her that I was always pale. - -"What are your requirements?" - -"I have no requirements whatever--all I want is a situation." - -"Have you got any papers?" - -I handed her my reference from Buda-Pesth, and, after having read it -carefully, she folded it up and looked at me thoughtfully. - -"Would you mind doing housework?" - -"Not at all," I replied, full of new hopes. - -She reached for one of the large books, and turned the leaves over. - -"Would you like to go in the country?" - -"With all my heart." - -At that she nodded eagerly, and pointing with her finger at a place in -the book, she said: - -"There is something which I am sure that you would like. The lady here -is trying to find a girl who speaks German and who would not object to -do the work in the house, besides being a companion to her daughter -aged fourteen. There is also a young French woman who is to help you. -What do you say to it?" - -I thought of the eight beds as well as the girls in the home, and said -that I should feel very happy if I could obtain that situation. - -"The lady is coming again at two o'clock, and if you like you may wait -here and speak with her." - -Controlling my joy as well as I could, I decided to wait, and sat down -on my chair again. - -The lady arrived in about an hour. She looked nearly forty years of -age, and was very kind. She only repeated what I had heard already, and -I agreed to everything. Finally she gave me a card with her name and -address upon it, and told me to start two days later. When everything -was settled she held out her hand to me, but took it back again as if -she had thought of something. - -"Have you had your dinner?" - -"No," I said truthfully. - -"Then you must come with me." - -She made me sit down in the carriage in which she had come, and a -little later we were seated round a table. - -"What would you like to eat?" she asked me. - -I said it was all the same to me, whereupon she ordered a lovely -dinner and looked much pleased that I liked it. When I had finished -she took me into the street again and looked round for one of the red -motor-buses. She soon spied one and begged the conductor to take care -of me, and to tell me when I had to get out. Then she nodded to me once -more and I rode back to the home. As soon as I got there I went to the -directress and reported my good luck. She, however, looked a little -doubtful. - -"The whole matter is somewhat suspicious," she said; "it has gone too -quick, but all that we can do is to trust in Him." - -I assured her that I did so, and then I went up into the bedroom and -wrote to my friend a letter of some length. The girls who had left the -home with me in the morning returned towards supper-time and inquired -a little scornfully whether I had got a situation. After I had told -them of my success they looked greatly surprised and asked me to tell -them all about it. I told them all I knew, and after I had finished the -tall, fair girl again shrugged her shoulders. - -"That is only the place of a kitchen-maid, but for doing the cooking -and scrubbing the floors I am too good, I think;" and while she said -that she turned her hat into another shape. - - - - -Chapter XV - - -The little place where my mistress lived is situated on the Thames, -about two hours' journey from London. The lady herself came to meet -me at the station. The house to which she took me stood somewhat back -from the others, near to the bank of the river. Talking kindly all -the while, my new mistress showed me into a large pleasant room, and -told me that this was to be my room. Left alone, I looked round. The -low walls were covered with a pretty light-grey paper, and the black -massive iron bedstead had a cover of similar colour. In one corner -there was a washstand with a grey veined marble slab, and white china -standing upon it. On the right, a chair and a table. The room had two -windows, one of which faced the courtyard. The view, however, was -barred by the protruding roof of a shed, overgrown so thickly with -creepers that it looked like underbrush in the woods. That roof I grew -to love immensely, and, later on, I watched with keen delight how its -colour changed from the most tender green of spring to the burning red -of autumn. The second window gave me a view of the garden which was -sloping down to the river, and on the other bank I could see extensive -meadows of a most exquisite green. It was this window at which I leaned -and looked out, after I had, with a deep breath of relief, noticed the -cleanliness and comfort of the room. - -I looked down at the Thames, of which I had heard so often at school, -and for which I received so much scolding and thrashing because it was -so hard to remember whether London or Paris flourished on its banks. I -looked down on the meadows lying soft and dreamy, untouched by the hand -of greed. No tree, no bush, as far as the eyes could wander, nothing -but the free, lovely fields, impressing one with a sense of prosperity -and peace. To me that peace and stillness was so pleasing that I -folded my hands involuntarily. - -"Life," I said in a low voice, "wonderful life!" for wonderful I -thought it, in spite of the weariness in all my limbs and the ardent -longing in my heart. - -I was called down a little later and made the acquaintance of the -daughter and the French girl. The former spoke German, the latter did -not. As I myself did not understand French, my fellow-servant and I -spoke English, and spoke it badly. I found out very soon that she was -a most superficial girl who hated thoroughly the work we had to do -together in the rooms and kitchen. Though she was only seventeen years -old she had already flirted a good deal, and whenever we were at work -beating the carpets, washing up the dishes, or cleaning the boots and -clothes, she told me of the men who had crossed her way and been more -or less fatal in her life. After having detailed also the latest of her -conquests, a grocer or a chemist's apprentice, she urged me to tell -her something about myself. But at that I shook my head decidedly and -smiled. What could I have told her? That what made me sometimes so -happy and sometimes so sad was a fairy-tale of such wonderful delicacy -that she could never have understood it. And when, regardless of my -smile and silence, she dived again into the waves of her adventures, I -was all the more quiet and worked twice as quickly as she did. - -So time passed away painfully, yet mingled with the blissful hope that -he would come for me some day; unconscious, but not to be shaken, it -lived within me, and innumerable times I pictured to myself how it -would happen. The bell would ring a short, energetic ring, and he would -stand in the kitchen all unexpected and all unannounced. Then I would -take him upstairs to my room, show him happily--like a child shows his -toys--the little forest below my window, the river and the green fields -beyond it, until suddenly he would notice my black dress, my white -apron, and the flowing bonnet-strings--badges of my position--would -comprehend the endurance of my heart, my hands, and silently take me in -his arms. - -These dreams, however, were the most foolish dreams that I have ever -dreamt. - -By-and-by I learned to know thoroughly the ways of English home-life. -Although my mistress was a widow, she gave all sorts of entertainments -characteristic of English people, such as tea-parties, picnics, and -so forth. It is true that these large and small gatherings doubled my -work in every respect, but I tried to compensate myself by catching -now and again an English word, in order to enlarge my knowledge of -that language, which was poor indeed, since my mistress as well as -her daughter generally spoke either French or German. Yet, with much -zeal and diligence (I studied in English books deep into the night) I -progressed very nicely. - -My mistress always treated me most kindly, but I could not help -smiling sometimes at the relations between her and her daughter. The -fifteen-year-old girl tyrannized over her mother in a most incredible -way. Unfortunately my mistress was convinced that her darling possessed -everything that was needed to make a great artist, and did all in her -power to develop the talents of that future genius. It is true that the -girl sang, danced, painted, and wrote poetry, but I am doubtful as to -the merit of her accomplishments. One day, when I was busily beating -the carpets, my mistress rushed out of her room, and looking pale with -nervousness she begged me to stop that noise because Miss Daisy was -about to write a poem. I lifted the heavy carpet down at once, but -thought of my own poems, which still proved to be a secret source of my -scanty joys, and asked myself how many poems I could have written if -absolute stillness was necessary for the writing of them. - -They were composed while I was working, while I was running up and -downstairs, and there was nobody who cared. Nobody? No. Now and again a -letter told me that the one or the other of my poems was exceptionally -beautiful. - -When I had been at my post for some time, a great change happened. Miss -Daisy fell ill with scarlet fever. As soon as the French girl knew -about it she left the house. - -"Do you want to leave too?" my mistress asked me. - -"Certainly not," I replied. - -After seven weeks full of anxiety and fear, the doctor ordered the -patient a change of air. All the necessary things were packed up -immediately, and a few days later we looked out on the northern sea. -I had got a room to myself, and was impatient to retire there. The -evening came at last, but tired though I was, I did not think of sleep. -I stepped to the window, opened it as much as one can open a window -in England, and gazed enraptured at the heaving waters, on which the -moonlight glittered and danced. It was very late before I went to bed -on that night, and very early when I got up next morning. Nobody was -astir yet, and I dressed noiselessly. During the night I had had a -strange dream and felt like writing it down. I looked for a sheet of -paper and while the sky deepened from pink into red, I wrote a new -poem, and entitled it "Ruby." - -After we had stayed at the seaside for about five weeks we returned -home, and my mistress did not engage a second servant for the present. -My duties increased and I had less time to spare than before, but still -filled the few moments of leisure I could find with the study of the -English language. - -One day I came across a book by Milton, and in spite of my defective -knowledge of the language, read most eagerly his "Paradise Lost," and -was overwhelmed by the picturesque language and by the bold imagination -and grandeur of the whole. Many, many times, also, I looked up the page -on which was written: - - - "When I consider how my light is spent - Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, - And that one talent which is death to hide, - Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent - To serve therewith my Maker, and present - My true account, lest He, returning, chide; - 'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?' - I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent - That murmur, soon replies: 'God doth not need - Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best - Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best; His state - Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed, - And post o'er land and ocean without rest; - They also serve who only stand and wait.'" - - -And each time that I read that poem I fell into a strange brooding -mood. A mood from which later on sprang my greatest defeat and my -greatest conquest. By-and-by I bought the poems of Lord Byron, Keats, -and also of Longfellow, and not a single day passed without my being -able to do a little reading. That does not mean, however, that I read -all the poems contained in a book. Far from it. When I bought a new -book I used to turn over the leaves until I found a poem which I liked -very much, and that one poem I kept reading over and over again. It -happened also that I used to read a poem on account of one passage -only. There is, for example, one poem by Lord Byron, commencing thus: - - - "Ah! Love was never yet without - The pang, the agony, the doubt." - - -And a few lines further: - - - "That love has arrows, well I knew; - Alas, I find them poisoned too." - - -For the sake of these last lines, I wandered through the whole poem -again and again although I did not care for the rest. - -My favourite poem by Keats was: - - - "I had a dove, and the sweet dove died, - And I have thought it died of grieving. - Oh, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied - With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving. - Sweet little red feet! why should you die? - Why should you leave me, sweet bird! why? - You lived alone in the forest-tree; - Why, pretty thing, would you not live with me? - I kissed you oft and gave you white peas; - Why not live sweetly as in the green trees?" - - -This poem seemed to me so simple, so sweet, that I recited it while I -did the washing or cleaned the floor. It is a habit of mine to recite -a poem whenever my occupation permits it; the even movement of a verse -produces a most soothing effect on me, and I know of no other thing in -existence holding so much grace and sweetness as the symmetrical flow -of poetry. In this quiet manner, time slipped away. During the first -month of my stay in England my friend had written to me often, but -little by little his letters became rare; sometimes he kept me waiting -for months, and then I thought that he had forgotten me. At such hours -my longing for him was beyond all telling; how I watched for him and -waited, expecting vaguely that something unaccountable, something -wonderful would happen to bring him to me; and so firmly did I believe -this, that I began to tremble each time the bell was rung, thinking -that he had come. But he never came. - -One day my mistress told me that she had received an invitation to go -to Scotland, but could not take me with her. - -"I think," she said, "as you have not seen much of London yet, you -might like to become better acquainted with the town. So the best thing -for you would be to stay at the home for a few weeks." - -"I don't think I should like to stay at the home," I replied. - -"Why not? That home is a very worthy home indeed, and I feel sure that -you will be well cared for." - -After that I did not dare to say more. - - - - -Chapter XVI - - -The preparation for the departure began at once. The next day my -mistress took me to the home herself, commended me to the special care -of the directress, and I lived once more in the room containing the -eight beds. I knew none of the girls and was not at all eager to know -them. However, when I entered the dining-room in the evening I had a -surprise. Somebody called my name. I was much astonished, and asked -myself which of the girls could know me. The one who had called my name -was sitting at the table beckoning to me with both of her hands. - -"Do come," she said vivaciously. - -I did not remember that I had ever seen her, and believed already that -she was mistaking me for somebody else, when suddenly it came into my -mind who she was. She was the girl who had slept next to me during my -first stay at the home--the girl with the large, bright eyes and the -auburn hair. I was now glad after all that somebody knew and greeted me. - -"Are you looking out for a situation?" I asked her during supper. - -"No," she replied, "I am living here"; and then she told me that she -was a correspondent for German. I listened and shook my head. - -"I cannot understand how you can put up with it--to stay here for good." - -"Why?" she asked. - -"Well, on account of the sleeping." - -"I am used to it." - -"I could never get used to that." - -"In this world," she replied, "one has to put up with lots of things." -And while she said that, her face grew very sad. When the bell rang for -prayers we stood together, and when the hymn was sung I listened to -the soft melancholy note that trembled in the girl's voice. The next -morning I decided to go to the British Museum, since they all told me -"everyone ought to see that." - -It was only a few minutes' walk from the home, so I did not have to -make many inquiries about the way. When I arrived at the entrance I was -charmed with the countless pigeons, which seemed to be quite tame and -fearless, even taking food out of the people's hands. I should have -loved to remain there and watch the sweet, graceful birds, but there -was something within that reproached me for my indifference towards -the treasures of the British Museum itself. In order to quiet that -something, I at last mounted the steps leading to the different rooms. -I am sorry to say that my knowledge is far too small to appreciate -the treasures accumulated in these rooms. I remember innumerable -things, black from age, lying behind glass cases; their meaning and -value, however, I did not understand. When I entered the room with -the Egyptian mummies I felt the same reverence that I felt as a child -on entering a church, and I only dared to walk about on tip-toe. That -respect passed, however, the longer I gazed at the dark, lean faces, -and finally they seemed to me to be no more than large babies put in -swaddling clothes. There in front of me, a glass case held the last -remains of a King--a hand adorned with yellow rings. Once upon a -time that same hand had moved imperiously, and a thousand slaves had -trembled at the sign. "Where is thy country to-day--where thy army, -and where art thou thyself, oh mighty King? And what, oh tell me, -became of all thy agonies, and what became of all thy joys?" Thus I -questioned the dark hand with its yellow rings, and the reply I found -was a conviction new to me. That there does not exist a real self--that -God has not finished His creation yet--that we are the means towards an -object, but not the object itself. - -After much wandering to and fro, I arrived at a room that also -contained glass cases, to which large and small pieces of brown paper -were carefully pinned. At first I looked at them with wondering -curiosity, but next minute I was overcome with awe. The brown pieces of -paper were papyrus, which I had often heard of, but never seen. There -were several of them, but I returned again and again to the one above -which stood the following inscription: "Papyrus with five verses of an -ode by Sappho to her brother Charaxus." - -I could not turn my eyes away from it, and thus it happened that I -went to the British Museum every day for the three weeks, in order to -see the pigeons and the papyrus. I had an idea in my head of stealing -the papyrus, but failed to accomplish that noble purpose owing to -two policemen who were stationed close by, and who began to watch me -suspiciously. Although the papyrus has, as I can see, not yet lost its -old attraction, I must not forget to mention my visit to the famous -"Tower." There, however, I did not care very much for the splendid -armour which decorated the walls, nor for the large diamond in the -jewel-room, round which the public crowded. I left rather quickly -the narrow corridors, together with the gloomy rooms, and sat down -on a bench in the court-yard, contemplating with melancholy feelings -the bright brass plate in front of me, which stated that two young -beautiful queens had been beheaded on that spot. The sunburnt leaves of -autumn danced over it to-day. - -I returned to the home rather late from such excursions, expected most -impatiently by the girl who had attached herself to me more and more -closely. By-and-by a friendship sprang up between us, the cause of -which I could never explain. I think it was her eyes, which at times -looked so strangely sad, that had attracted me, and although she had -never confided in me, I felt sure that she was troubled by some secret -sorrow. One day when we sat together and chatted, a letter from my -friend was handed to me. I had been expecting it for a long while, and -was very pleased with it. He wrote that he worked until midnight every -day, and begged me to forgive his silence. He would write more fully as -soon as he could spare time. My friend noticed how happy the few lines -had made me, and smilingly she asked me whether that letter was from -someone for whom I cared very much, and was that someone perhaps a man? -I hesitated a little, and then told her about him. While I did so, she -grew more and more sad, and at last she cried. - -"I wish," she said, "I had known you before I went to Paris." - -At that I felt much consternation, and could not understand her. - -"Why," I asked at last, "did you have so little companionship there?" - -"No, no," she said, springing to her feet, "too much--far too much." - -Before I had understood what she meant, the door opened and some of the -girls entered. We therefore began to talk about indifferent matters, -but I could see that my friend was not at her ease. Her cheeks were -very pale, and her smile affected. A few days later I received a note -from my mistress telling me that she was coming back in a week's time, -and that she wanted me to leave the home. This was very bad news for my -friend; she kept with me constantly, and declared that she would not -know what to do when I had gone. On the day before my departure she was -again strangely moved, and often began sentences without finishing -them. - -"Is there anything that troubles you?" I asked her. - -"Yes." - -"Then will you not tell me?" I said, caressing her hand. - -"Yes," she replied, in a voice more agonized than any I had ever heard. -Then she closed her large, bright eyes, and, as if afraid to hear her -own words, she told me in a whisper something that was very sad. - -After she had finished we both cried. - -"Is the child a girl or a boy?" I asked at last. - -"A girl," she replied tonelessly. - -"And is it living?" - -"I don't know." - -I jumped from my bed and looked at her incredulously. - -"How is that possible? Don't you know whether your child is living or -not?" - -She stared at me with a stupid, helpless look, and my pity was aroused. - -"Tell me everything," I pleaded softly: "perhaps it will take a load -from your heart." - -After that she told me everything. How the man had neglected and -abandoned her, how she had faced hunger for nine months to keep her -baby with her, how she had fallen ill at last, and was compelled to -separate from the child in order to save it from starvation. While she -told me all this, her tears flowed incessantly, and I stroked her hands. - -"To whom did you give your baby?" I asked in a low voice. - -She closed her eyes again as if recollecting something, and said: - -"In Paris there is a place where one may leave a child without being -obliged to tell one's name." - -"And there?..." - -She nodded, and leant wearily on the bed. - -"But you must have been mad--now you can't recognize your child again." - -"Oh yes," she replied, shaking her head violently, "I can recognize it -again; each of the children receives a ring of thin metal round its -wrists, and on the ring there is a number." - -I was silent, and we went down because the bell had rung for supper. We -both ate very little, and when the hymn was sung later, I heard nothing -but the soft, melancholy note that trembled in the girl's voice. During -the whole evening we said no more about the matter. I busied myself -with packing up, and went to bed very late. For a long while, however, -I could not go to sleep. Several times I sat up in my bed and glanced -at my friend. She was lying quite still, and I believe she was asleep. -At last my eyes closed too, and half awake and half asleep, I imagined -that I saw a little girl who played in a dingy yard; she had the same -large, bright eyes, and the same mass of auburn hair as my friend, only -round its wrist there shone a small ring of metal, and on the ring a -number was hanging. - - - - -Chapter XVII - - -My way of living became the same again. Now as before I scrubbed the -floor, washed the linen, and looked after the kitchen. Many times -during my work I thought of my friend in London and secretly wished -to be near her. There was one reason, however, why I could not really -leave Marlow. It was this: that I was determined to return the money -which I owed to my friend in Buda-Pesth; that was, of course, not easy -for me, since my wages were only thirty shillings a month, and out of -them I used also to help my parents. It is true that I had sent home -less of late, because the conditions at home had gradually become more -satisfactory, and my brother had also gone away. My parents had not -heard from him for a long time. All they knew was that he had given up -entirely the hated profession of a waiter, and gone over seas to try -his luck in another land. In one of his more recent letters my father -had told me that he had received a newspaper from Brazil, containing -the news of a most daring flight made by an aviator named "Aranga." - -Underneath this account, however, the following words were written in -pencil, "Much love to all of you. I shall be all right as long as my -spine is not broken." - -To the above-mentioned purpose I now put away every farthing that I -could save out of the thirty shillings, and the mere thought of sending -my friend the amount of my debt made me exceedingly happy. Now to leave -my situation and find another one in London would have certainly cost -me money, and to spend even a single penny would have been unbearable -to me. About that, however, I made no mention to my friend, but told -him only of my occupation and so forth. His letters became very rare -indeed, and of late contained nothing but reproaches at my apparent -"waste of time." - -"Have you," he asked, "gone over to England in order to learn how to -cook? There was indeed no need for you to go to London just for that. -You know how much I want to help on your education, and to develop your -talent. Pray do not insist on sacrificing all your time to others. Try -at least to find an engagement for the mornings somewhere in London, -and study in the afternoons. I would, of course, support you in -whatever way you require." - -Tempting though such an offer may have been, I could not make up my -mind to accept it, and so I returned with a sigh to my pots and pans. -But in my heart of hearts I felt like the little boy in the story, who -was for ever wishing that something might come along that would take -him somewhere else. However, nothing came. One month passed after the -other, and sometimes my feet felt very tired. By-and-by my heart grew -weary too, and finally refused to tremble whenever the bell was rung; -no longer did I fear, hope, and believe that he had come at last. But I -was still waiting, waiting at the threshold of his soul, waiting for -the wonderful moment when it would open, and he would step out to me -with kindness on his lips and fulfilment in his eyes. Sometimes again -there were hours when I almost regretted--hours when my most secret -thoughts seemed to come to life and confront me with malicious-looking -faces. "Why did you go away from him?" they would ask scornfully. Yes, -why had I gone away from him? To get to know different people and -different places? Of course, did not he himself wish it thus? Did not I -myself want it thus? Want it thus? And after every drop of blood within -me had set its "No" against that question, the scornful voices rose -again: "And if you did not want to go away why, then, did you go?" And -all at once I knew it, and my cheeks flushed with an unaccustomed glow, -and my heart was filled with an unaccustomed sorrow. Thus disputing -with myself, time passed on. - -It happened one night, when I could not go to sleep though I had worked -hard all day long, that I lay awake in bed, and thought and thought -until all good and evil spirits had gathered around me. Like so many -hands they reached down into my thoughts, tugging, pulling, and tearing -them about, and when they had gone, there were red letters floating -about in the darkness of the room, forming themselves to a question at -the end, and the question was: - -"May I come back again?" - -"Why not?" I said, shaking my fists towards the glowing signs; "is -not our friendship so pure, so marvellously wonderful?" ... At that -a wreath of flames encircled every letter, and when I read again I -trembled. - -"That is just why," it said; and behind the letters there rose up a -beautiful, transparent light. But I would neither see the light nor -the writing, and closed my eyes like an obstinate child. Other nights -followed similar to that one, and by-and-by all things seemed to enter -into conspiracy against me. My own self seemed to hate and persecute -me--seemed to wrestle from me the last faint hope, which I would not -surrender. But in moments of greatest anguish he himself would come to -my help. As if conjured up by some magic world he stood amongst the -slanderous monsters, towering above them all. - -"Do you believe in me?" he asked, gazing at me with the apprehensive -look and giving me his kindest smile. - -"Yes, I believe," I answered, raising up these words as I had seen, -when a child, the priest raise up the golden monstrance, and at that my -host of tormentors grew quiet, as the congregation did at church. - -Of all that my friend knew nothing. - -Just as we had never in our personal intercourse said anything to -disclose our innermost thought or feeling, our letters remained equally -distant and cool, with perhaps only a line now and again, which failed -to hide our longing or grief. - -But on those lines we lived--or I at least. Those lines held out -to me all and everything--imparted to my soul all the strength and -sweetness that it needed to persuade the weary limbs to do their dull, -daily work once more. And thus it happened that I was sometimes even -happy, that, with a smile in my eyes, I cleaned the copper pots until -they all shone, and scarcely felt the cold when, early on a winter -morning, I knelt down to wash the steps outside the house. But the most -beautiful moment was when in the evening I took my little savings-box -and spread its contents on my bed. That money I regarded as my greatest -treasure, always hiding it away most anxiously, and I should have been -inconsolable if I had lost it by any mishap. - -I was determined to leave Marlow as soon as I had saved all the money -to cover my debt, and a little over to last me until I had found a -suitable situation in London. Things, however, did not turn out in -accordance with my expectations. - -For some time back my mistress had intended to send her daughter to a -school abroad, and all at once she made up her mind to do so. She did -not care to live in the large house all by herself, and told me that -she was going to shut it up and travel about. Since all the money I -still wanted did not amount to more than fifty to sixty shillings, I -felt much grieved when she told me of her intentions, because there was -no possibility now of sending the money off in a few months as I had -hoped to be able to do. But soon I grew more quiet about it, comforting -myself with the hope of finding another situation very quickly, and of -being able after all to return the money in the shortest time possible. - -Thus it came to pass that I left the house, where for eighteen months I -had been happy and unhappy in so peculiar a fashion; and when I looked -round my room for the last time I felt the tears spring into my eyes, -and I went downstairs sobbing bitterly. After having arrived in London, -I went to the home to see my friend. She welcomed me most heartily, but -could do nothing else for me. The next thing I wanted to do now was to -find a situation in order to spend as little of my savings as possible. - -I called again on the elderly lady who had given me my first post, and -after the usual greetings and necessary explanations she said: - -"Since you have been in England for some time, and also possess a -reference given by an English lady, it will not be difficult to find -something suitable for you. What kind of a situation do you prefer?" - -I thought of the sixty shillings which I wanted to earn as quickly as -possible, and said that I did not mind in the least, but should feel -happy if I could get an opportunity to speak a little English. - -"Should you like to take a post as an under-nurse?" - -I had never heard of an under-nurse before, and did not quite know what -she meant. - -"What's an under-nurse?" - -"Well, you would like it no doubt, because the head-nurse is an -Englishwoman, so you would have plenty of opportunity to speak English." - -After that I asked for the particulars, which she gave me in full. - -"It is best for you," she said, "to go there and show yourself to the -lady. If you like the post then well and good, but should you not care -for it, then come back again." - -She handed me the address and I went on my way. It seemed to be -tremendously far, and when, after much looking and asking, I at last -pulled the bell of a pretty house, I felt dead tired. A neat-looking -parlour-maid inquired my wishes, invited me to step in, and told me to -wait. I sat down on one of the upright oak chairs, and in my heart of -hearts hoped that the lady might not come immediately. But she appeared -very soon, and was most kind and gracious. After she had asked me a -few questions she told me that she would like to engage me, but could -not do so before the head-nurse had seen me. But the head-nurse was -out with the children, so would I either wait or come again? I decided -to wait, after which she left me to myself, and inwardly I prayed to -God that He might make the head-nurse like me too. A little while -afterwards I could hear much shouting and yelling, and the lady came -in to tell me that the head-nurse had returned. She asked me to follow -her upstairs, where we were met by four boys, aged about five, seven, -nine, and eleven years, who had come to some disagreement which they -seemed unable to put right. A very thin-looking woman, whom I guessed -to be the head-nurse, tried to quiet them, a task that proved only -successful after she had produced a long cane, the sight of which had -an immediate effect upon the four brothers. The head-nurse put the -cane very carefully into a corner and listened attentively to what her -mistress told her about me. Now and again she looked at me, and with -much comfort and relief I noticed that she seemed to like me. - -The lady then explained to me what I would have to do, and I felt a -growing alarm the longer she spoke. But when she asked me in the end -whether I would like to take the post, I thought again of the sixty -shillings and said I should like to come. - -I started my new situation two days later. If I had no idea of the -position of an under-nurse before, I was to get it now. I found out -quickly that among the four servants of the house, I was considered to -be the most insignificant one, and each of the three other servants -made me feel this. Owing to the fact that I spoke English imperfectly, -and neither the cook nor the parlour-maid were fond of foreigners, -they teased and taunted me at every possible opportunity. Furthermore, -they made me do all the work that they themselves did not care to do, -such as bringing up coal from the cellar and so forth. In order to get -on with them, I did everything. But the nights proved to be even more -terrible than the days. I had to sleep in one room with the cook and -the parlour-maid, and many times I set my teeth when I thought of my -own little room at Marlow. The two girls used to chat together until -midnight, relating all about their lovers, and mentioning, I am sure, -every Christian name for boys which is to be found in the calendar. The -one of whom I was the most afraid was the cook. She was terribly rude, -and often raised her hands as if to beat me whenever I did not do a -thing to her entire satisfaction. - -However, every cup of sorrow contains its drop of mirth, and my -happiness arose from the cook's outings and her love-letters. The fact -is that when she received a letter from one of her many adorers she -was kind even to me. - -One day a soldier presented her with a silver brooch, and she was so -nice that day to me that I almost liked her in the evening. But when it -happened that a day or more passed without having brought her a token -of some kind she became furious, and her spiteful rage was beyond all -bounds. While I still lived at Marlow I had often stood and watched for -the postman, hoping secretly that he might bring something for me, but -now I stood and watched for him, filled only with the ardent longing -that he might have something for the cook; and I think that now is the -right moment, and here the right place, to express my thanks to all -the policemen, soldiers, milkmen, butchers and others, who were happy -enough to come within scope of the cook's interest and consideration, -for the numbers of letters and cards which they despatched to her -without knowing that they had made me happy too. - -One day there was a great row in the kitchen, and the parlour-maid left -the same day. The new parlour-maid was a very pale and ill-looking -girl, but she worked very hard. She was never rude to me. I liked -her for that and felt sorry for her because she looked so weak. One -evening, when the cook had her outing, and we lay alone in our room, -the parlour-maid began to sob most piteously. - -"What's the matter?" I asked her, and after some hesitation she told me -that her sweetheart was lying on the point of death in a hospital for -consumption. Then she pulled a letter from behind her pillow and handed -it over to me. I lit the candle and by its flickering light I read the -lines. Brave yet desperate words of a dying man, together with a poem, -which throbbed with the unspeakable longing for health and life, and -disclosed the most sweet and most lovable thoughts. - -"I am sure," I said, trying hard to conceal my emotion--"I am sure he -will get well again." - -"No; he is there where only the dying are." - -Her eyes were dry when she said that, and only her lips trembled. I put -out the light and shuddered. From that evening onward I helped her as -much as I could with her work, although I had plenty to do myself. - -One night she roused us from our sleep with a terrible scream, and -looking round her wildly, she said she was sure that "he" had called -for her. On the morning she asked for half a day off, but she returned -no more. - -After I had been at my post for about six months, I went one day to the -post-office to have a letter registered. The letter was addressed to my -friend in Buda-Pesth and contained the money which I owed to him. But -it contained something else beside that--the outcry of a heart tortured -to death. For the first time I told him of my unbearable position. -He wrote back at once. His letter was full of kind reproaches for my -silence about so many facts--what he termed my insincerity. He further -urged me to leave my place at once, take no situation whatsoever, and -give myself up entirely to the study of the English language in order -to be able to go in for an examination afterwards. He also returned -the money which I had sent, begging me to use it for board and so on. -Further sums would follow. - -It happened that it was my day out when I received the letter, and -I went to see my friend in the home. I showed her the letter from -Buda-Pesth, and she greatly urged me to accede to his wishes. - -"I know what men are like," she said, "and I feel convinced that that -man means to deal honestly with you." - -In this way she spoke to me for a long while, and being afraid to take -a new situation on account of the cooks, I at last consented. My friend -then told me that she had thought of leaving the home, and suggested -that we should take one room together. - -"It would be cheapest," she argued. - -I liked the idea because, as she said, "it was cheapest," and thus -it happened that I packed up my things once more and moved into a -boarding-house in London, my heart filled with joyous hopes. - -It is true that it worried me again to owe money to my friend in -Buda-Pesth. I consoled myself, however, with the intention to work -very hard in order to pass an examination in the English language -very soon, and then--Yes, and then! All at once I stopped to think. -The old, well-known hobgoblins appeared once more, and sneered and -grinned at me out of every corner. I pulled myself together with all -the self-restraint possible, shook off every thought for the future and -studied very hard. - -The life in the boarding-house was full of interest and liveliness. The -boarders belonged to different races and spoke different languages. - -There were, for instance, Indians, wearing turbans of white or daintily -shaded silk; Chinese, who had, however, sacrificed their pigtails to -the fashion of Europe; a former prima donna who had grown too stout -for the stage, and showed, with much fondness, photos of herself in -stage costumes; a pale, worn-out-looking gentleman from Switzerland who -could not put up with the fact that no English girl--unlike some French -girls of his acquaintance--would undertake the management of his own -household without the usual vows at the altar; a German who could not -stand the English cooking; and a young striving musician who was unable -to pay for his board and tried to commit suicide every Saturday. - -Although the people were polite to me and I liked them very well, -I did not really care to associate much with them. Such, however, -was not the case with my friend, who used to amuse herself chiefly -with the discontented Swiss, in a way that at first surprised, later -alarmed, and finally disgusted me. It happened often that I left the -dining-room without a word, and sat down on my bed in our little room -until my friend came upstairs. She then used to look very gay and began -to tell me stories such as I had never heard from her before, and -which recalled to me the stories of the cook. I responded but little, -whereupon she grew very bad-tempered, and declared I was a dull girl -who could never see a joke. Sometimes I felt some sharp reply on the -tip of my tongue, but swallowed it down again, thinking that I was -perhaps really "dull" and she right after all. I tried to make amends -for my behaviour by greater attention and tenderness towards her, -showing also much interest for the stories she told me. In reality, -however, I found everything most tedious, and would have much preferred -to talk about poems. But my friend had declared once for all that she -did not care for poems. Thus I tried hard to keep up our friendship, -which was no more than a comedy, and should no doubt have kept it -up even longer if she had not done something which put an end to my -uncomfortable position. - -I had gone upstairs rather early one evening and left my friend in the -company of the other boarders. I was in bed when she came up at last. -She looked frightfully hot and was shaking with laughter. - -"What's the matter?" I asked her with affected interest. - -Still laughing, she pulled out a crumpled sheet of newspaper and -straightened it. - -"No, I never!" she exclaimed. "You must read that." - -I looked at the paper and saw that it was French. - -"How can I read it? I don't know French." - -"Oh well, I forgot; I will read it out to you." - -"But I can't understand it." - -"Never mind; I am going to translate it." - -After that, she placed herself close to my bed and read out a story -which made me furious. - -"Stop, if you please," I said; "I will hear no more of it." - -She laughed aloud. - -"You are only acting now; the truth is that you are anxious to hear the -end." - -"No; I will hear no more," I said decidedly; and because she did not -stop I got out of bed and ran, barefooted as I was, into the bathroom -close by. I stayed there for rather a long while, and when I came back -she was in bed and pretended to be asleep. I knew, however, that it was -impossible for us to live together any longer. We did not speak to each -other next morning. As soon as I had dressed, I went out and took a -room for myself in quite a different part of London. - -I lived now close to Westminster Abbey. - -I had heard much about it already, but had not yet seen it, and -determined to visit that place at the first possible moment. - -With my heart beating fast, I stood a few days later in front of its -grey, sacred walls, and a little later I slipped in and mixed with the -swarm of visitors. I did not, however, walk about as they did, but -pressed myself hard into the first corner. Never in all my life had -I felt what I felt then. I was like one spellbound, as if I was in -immediate personal touch with all those who had been there a long, long -time ago, and who were nothing but dust now. - -I roused myself at last and moved on. But I walked about like a -sleep-walker, conceiving only the infinite greatness of all things, -hardly realizing the reality of what I saw. - -After some wandering to and fro I caught sight suddenly of a low, -little wooden door, and thought of opening it. I looked round carefully -because I did not know whether it was permitted (it is permitted), -pushed it open quickly and went out. Yes, really and truly out! Then, -lo and behold! behind that door there was no chapel filled with coffins -or monuments of kings and queens, but a garden in the shape of a -square, which, it is true, had no flowers, but a beautiful, well-kept -lawn, and that piece of green garden looked wonderful amid those grey, -massive walls, which, could they but speak, are able to tell the -stories of many a century. A few benches were placed here and there -and I sat down. I knew that the Abbey itself had once upon a time -been a monastery, and guessed that this had been the convent garden. -I imagined that I could see the tall figures of the monks leaving the -dormitory, proceeding slowly over the sparkling lawn, and disappearing -behind the little door to attend their early morning service. - -Whenever I visited Westminster Abbey later on (I am glad to say I did -that very often) I paid my homage first to the tombs, the old, old -coronation chair, the famous stone beneath it, which is regarded as -the stone on which Jacob had slept and dreamt his world-known dream, -the Poets' Corner, and to countless other glorious things; after which -I restrained no longer the sweet impatience of my heart, but slipped -through the low wooden door into the convent garden. And seated there -on one of the benches, with my eyes twinkling, because of the full, -sudden glare of light, I used to weave some sweet sad tale of love -around the sombre figure of a proud and handsome monk. - -Apart from these hours of so sweet, restful, and contemplative a -nature, every day was given up to work. I did all in my power to -acquaint myself most thoroughly with a knowledge of the English -language, and made such good progress that I began to compose my verses -in English. It is true that these poems will most probably never secure -me the gratitude of the English people, but nevertheless they pleased -me much, and my friend too expressed his satisfaction with them. He -also sometimes asked me now what I was going to do after I had passed -my examination, whether I was intending to stay in England or to go -somewhere else. - -But to these questions I never wrote any answer, and when I had to do -so at last, a similar cowardice got hold of me to that which possessed -St. Peter when he denied his Master. - -"Do you think that I may come back?" I asked him. - -Later on I went to post the lines, and when I returned to my room I -found all the old well-known witches again. - -"Is not something that is good beyond questioning--not clear as the -purest water?" - -Thus they whispered into my ear high and low in every scale, and beside -that whisper I could hear the church bell strike every hour of the -night. - -The days seemed to creep to the thrilling impatience within me, and -sometimes I felt a sudden terror at an unknown dread. - -"What will he write to me? And when will he write?" I asked myself over -and over again. - -His letter arrived at last; it was put in a blue envelope and felt like -a weight of lead in my hand. I could not make up my mind to open it, -and wished somehow that I had not yet received it. - -Tearing open the envelope at last, I read the letter, read it again -and again. When I dropped the neatly written sheets, there was a -dead stillness in the room. Involuntarily I looked around me. All the -evil spirits had gone. All fear, all cowardice, all doubt had gone. -Something like a cloud lifted from my soul, and then a feeling rose up -to which I could as yet give no name, a feeling which tumbled about -within me like someone aroused from a dream, and finally pressed itself -hard against my throat. - -I put my arms on the table, my face on my arms, and sat still for a -long while. When it had grown dark and late I hid the letter underneath -my pillow, and went to sleep without a light in the room. Once during -the night I sat up in bed and lit a candle, and then I took the letter -and holding it close to the light looked for one passage: - -"If you had remained here, I do not know what might have happened; -if you come back, I know what will happen. But the question is, may -it come thus? You are not a girl of the ordinary type; you belong to -the race of Asra, the people who die when they love. And because I -have known that from the first, I have done for you what I have never -done for another woman yet--namely, got hold of the head of the beast -within, turned it round sharply and laughed at it." - -I hid the letter again and lay very still in my bed.... That then was -the end of it.... Tired and reluctantly my thoughts pilgrimaged back. -I saw myself again as I was--poor, lonesome, waiting until the moment -when the fairest miracle which life has ever held came to me, and -every thought within me stretched forth arms, as it were, in order to -receive it. I felt once more how every word, every look of his, pressed -itself into my soul like a red-hot seal, and I suffered anew all the -tortures and all the happiness. And all at once I thought again of -the story of "Morgan" and of his young wife.... How truly different -an ending, and yet how similar a victory! For which was more glorious -for a girl--that a man should make her his wife, or make her his most -beautiful dream, and his lasting desire? And all that I vainly tried to -comprehend before I comprehended now. "Yes," I said to myself--and I -said it aloud into the darkness of the room--"discontented, restless, -aimless, freed from one passion to-day, and chained to another passion -to-morrow, thus will he stagger through his life. Ever full of desire, -never at peace with himself, he will taste of every pleasure and get to -know every disgust. But above all pleasure and above all disgust there -will be the one longing of his soul, which had denied itself the drink, -because of the dregs it knew to be at the goblet's bottom. Not while in -ecstasy, not in the hustle and bustle of the day will he be aware of -it--nay, but when he lies awake at night, filled with a sense of utter -loneliness, listening to the pouring rain outside, then it will come to -life again, will throb and tremble through his soul, soft and pleading -like an old forgotten strain." And after I had said that, I smiled that -strange wonderful smile, which only a woman knows who is willing to -take upon herself the heaviest burden for the sweet sake of love. - -Next morning I left the house very early and wandered through the -streets of London. To-day I knew that I would wander through those -streets many, many times yet, and for a long, long while. - -Once I stopped and entered a grey, small building. It was a Roman -Catholic church. I walked about it aimlessly, and my eyes caught the -picture of Christ in life-size. For the first time in my life, perhaps, -the sight of it stirred nothing within me. What use could He be to me? -Could He comprehend such a thing at all? It is true that He had become -human in order to feel with us, but He was a good man. He only knew -the sins and passions of others, never did He know a sin, or a passion -of His own. Of godly descent. He was endowed with godly strength, with -godly wisdom, with godliness. What did He really know of the nature of -a thief, of a murderer, of a perjurer? And though He had died for the -sake of love, what did He know of the sufferings of lovers? - -I turned away from the picture and went out of the church. I went out -on tip-toe by force of habit, but on my soul dawned the religion of -life, which is older than the doctrine of Jesus ... and all round me -walked its disciples. Men and women who had done with dreaming and -were ready for the unknown hereafter--men with strong fists and hard -looks, by which one could tell that they had battled with life; women -whose faces looked wrinkled and worn, telling their story of hardship -and silent surrender; men and women who in their days of severity and -bitterness had surpassed the miracles wrought by Him, the Galilean; men -and women among whose numbers I was also enlisted. - -And out of that new consciousness arose to me a new wisdom and a new -love--a wisdom which reigned over all former wisdom, and a love which -reigned over all former love. And when I returned with it into my -solitude, the stones began to speak. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUE AND ROSES *** - -***** This file should be named 63947-0.txt or 63947-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/9/4/63947/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: Rue and Roses - -Author: Angela Langer - -Annotator: William Leonard Courtney - -Release Date: December 03, 2020 [EBook #63947] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUE AND ROSES *** -</pre> -<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> -A Table of Contents has been added.<br /></p></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>RUE AND ROSES</h1> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold2">ANGELA LANGER</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">WITH INTRODUCTION<br />BY</p> - -<p class="bold2">W. L. COURTNEY</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK<br />GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">RUE AND ROSES<br /> -——<br />ANGELA LANGER</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">Copyright, 1913<br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">By George H. Doran Company</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> - -<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> - -<p>You will like Anna, the heroine of "Rue and Roses," when you get -to know her. But perhaps it will take some time before she becomes -familiar to you, partly because she is intensely Teutonic, partly, -also, because the little history she gives about herself strikes the -ordinary reader as fragmentary. She certainly is very German. You -picture her to yourself with her large eyes and her, apparently, placid -exterior. Very likely she is wearing a shawl round her shoulders and -sits apart from other girls, for ever analyzing herself and her own -states of consciousness. That is the characteristic thing about her. -She is intensely self-analytic, and from the earliest moment when -she began to think at all, she has ceaselessly occupied herself with -her own soul-states and traversed one or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> two heart-crises. Having -nothing much external to interest her, she is driven to introspection, -and becomes, as a matter of course, a little priggish and pedantic, -exaggerating the importance of conditions about which the normal -healthy outdoor girl of another race never troubles herself.</p> - -<p>Yet she is worth knowing for all that. She may be a little tiresome, -but she is a good, honest girl, who has not had the best of luck, who, -indeed, has come from a home where everything seems opposed to her own -instincts and inclinations. Her father's business is perpetually on -the down-grade, and his little commercial enterprises invariably fail, -and leave him worse off than he was before. The mother, of course, -is always on the verge of tears, because it is her painful duty to -try and make both ends meet—a feat which she is eternally unable -to accomplish. From one place they drift to another, and Anna's few -friends of childhood are left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> behind, or if she sees them again they -look at her askance, because her father has been in prison. And there -is a brother, too, who would be a severe affliction even in the most -favourable circumstances.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Anna pursues her own way, very humble, very insignificant, -but always trying to do her best. She is a governess, and endures -the usual fate of governesses, being either bullied or made love -to—bullied by the mistress, and on one occasion compromisingly made -love to by the master. One solace she has—the writing of poems. A -characteristic German trait this! And so she sits and dreams, for she -is the most sentimental little person you ever came across—sentimental -to the full extent of Teutonic capacity, with her head full of -Weltschmerz and Schwärmerei. Of course she sighs for the Prince -Charming who is to come and redeem her from her servitude, a being of -impossible virtues, noble and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>distinguished, and excessively handsome, -the highborn husband for whom Cinderella dreams while she sweeps out -the kitchen and cleans the pots and pans.</p> - -<p>Nothing very significant so far. Indeed, Anna would seem to be the -very best example of the ordinary German maiden, ruthlessly exploring -her own limited soul and dreaming of the moon. Then suddenly an event -occurs which changes her crude immaturity into something more real. -She comes across a man of about thirty, who smokes his cigar, as she -herself says, "with elegant ease," and who discourses about many -things—about intoxication, about remorse, about books, about art, and -about her poems. Gradually the intimacy grows, and Anna's whole life, -and even her literary style, becomes eloquent because the love of her -life has dawned on her horizon. "By-and-by I began to think of him -whether I saw him or not; his face, his figure, rose like a blazing -question from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> midst of the strange, wistful dreams that I had -dreamt all my life, and something that had lain within me, dull and -senseless like a trance, woke, wondered, and trembled into joy."</p> - -<p>She has now got something to occupy her mind apart from the analysis -of her own soul. Her poems, naturally, become love poems. Her thoughts -are no longer turned inward, but outward, craving for his presence and -companionship. But the reader must not believe for a moment that he -is going to peruse the ordinary love story. No, the nameless hero—a -rather cryptic personage, suggesting now and again Manfred, certainly a -little Byronic in his presentment, who calls himself "a wolf in sheep's -clothing"—has no intention of making Anna either his mistress or his -wife. It puzzles her a little what the man means, or what her life is -henceforth to become. On one occasion she has a strange vision. She -is in a graveyard at night-time. "And as I stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> there staring into -the darkness above and beyond the graves, I saw a vision—a circle of -flames, growing into enormous size, embracing all the world except -myself, leaving me outside and alone." Anna is like little Mowgli in -Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Book," who stands desolate and alone in -the springtime when all the animal creation with whom he had consorted -so amicably are inspired by that passionate feeling which comes to them -in the opening year, but which leaves the little human boy untouched -and forlorn. Anna, too, has realized her loneliness. She is doomed -to be the Eternal Virgin, the predestinate spinster. In a world in -which the feminine race largely predominates there are not lovers and -husbands enough to go round, and she must remain outside that charmed -circle—the leaping flames of love and passion, which seem to embrace -all the world except herself. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p>Of course, she does not realize this at first. The truth only comes -home to her after she has left her native land and lived, not too -happily, in London. Because "he" had spoken enigmatically, always with -a sense that there was something dangerous in their companionship, she -had thought it best to leave him, he, too, assenting that that was -the best course to adopt. Then, after some weary months of exile, the -impulse comes upon her, too strong to be resisted, to write to her -lover, not the ordinary letter, but one containing a strong, insistent -question. "Do you think that I may come back?" she asked him. A long -answer arrives: "If you had remained here, I do not know what might -have happened; if you come back, I know what will happen. But the -question is, may it come thus? You are not a girl of the ordinary type; -you belong to the race of Asra, the people who die when they love.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> -And, because I have known that from the first, I have done for you what -I have never done for another woman yet—namely, got hold of the head -of the beast within, turned it round sharply, and laughed at it."</p> - -<p>That, then, is the end of it. A very different end from what the girl -had imagined, but which she now recognizes as inevitable, and not -otherwise than consolatory. For which is more glorious for a girl—that -a man should make her his wife, or make her his most beautiful dream -and his lasting desire? As for him, he will doubtless lead the man's -life, never at peace with himself, tasting every pleasure and getting -to know every disgust. "But above all pleasure and above all disgust -there will be the one longing of his soul, which had denied itself the -drink because of the dregs it knew to be at the goblet's bottom." This -renunciation becomes Anna's ideal, and she smiles to herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> that -strange, wonderful smile "which only a woman knows who is willing to -take upon herself the heaviest burden for the sweet sake of love."</p> - -<p>Such is the life story of Anna, the heroine of "Rue and Roses." Very -simple, very sentimental, but with a rare charm for those who have the -wit to understand and the heart to feel, and written in a style of -much tenderness and felicity. Do not put it down because the earlier -portion may seem uninteresting. Read on to the finish, and you will -be rewarded; for this is the story of one who realized her mission, a -mission which falls to the lot of many women—a mission of loneliness -with occasional moments of inspiration. It is the history, not of -the eternal womanly, but of the eternal virginal. Anna is, like the -daughter of Jephthah, a predestined virgin, who does not, like her -Hebrew prototype, bewail her maidenhood among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> mountains, but -accepts it with grave resignation as her lot in life.</p> - -<p class="right">W. L. COURTNEY.</p> - -<p><i>March 27, 1913.</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">RUE AND ROSES </p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CONTENTS</span></h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter I</td> - <td><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter II</td> - <td><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter III</td> - <td><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter IV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter V</td> - <td><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter VI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter VII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter VIII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter IX</td> - <td><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter X</td> - <td><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter XI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter XII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter XIII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter XIV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter XV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter XVI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Chapter XVII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter I</h2> - -<p>My parents kept a little shop, and adjoining it was our small lodging. -The shop contained lots of different things, such as candles, soap, -brushes, and many other articles, all of which I regarded with profound -respect. Each time that Christmas came round my father used to receive -a large wooden chest, of which the opening and unpacking was my -greatest joy. Sometimes my father would show no hurry about this to me -so sacred a ceremony, and then I used to remind him of it. At last, -however, he declared that he was going to open the chest, and after -that I got so excited that I hardly knew what to do. I asked whether I -might be permitted to help. But my father said that I was a bother and -in his way. Fearing that he might dismiss me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> altogether, I managed to -sit still for two minutes; but then I could bear it no longer. I went -to fetch a pair of pinchers and a huge hammer, and stood in readiness, -long before the chest was opened, with the tools in my hands. Then I -watched my father with breathless admiration as he forced a chisel in -between the chest and the lid, and very often burst the lid. My heart -beat fast for a moment when the white, soft shavings became visible, -and the mere sight of the small, brown cardboard-boxes, which my father -lifted carefully out of the chest, made me tremble with delight. But -the most joyous moment came when I was asked to get a pair of scissors -to cut the string which tied the cardboard-boxes. I walked on tip-toe -and spoke softly. Then the unpacking of the brown boxes began, and with -loving eyes I looked at the figures made out of chocolate or sugar. -There were riders with faces so bold that I hardly dared to think of -eating them; angels with limbs so dainty and wings so transparent that -I thought them to be real; and many other beautiful things. Broken -pieces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> were found sometimes, and my father gave them to me. Although -I longed to eat them I did not do so at once, but fetched a twig, or -anything that might resemble a Christmas-tree, and fastened the rider, -who, with his helmet cut off, looked less fierce now, the colour-bearer -who had lost his flag, or the angel with but one arm, upon it. After I -had watched them dangling about for a while I took them off again, and -there can be but little doubt as to their final fate. My brother joined -me in all these things, especially in eating. I remember a Christmas -Eve, when I was five years old and my brother four. Father Christmas -had presented me with a small wooden doll that pleased me enormously. -It had no hair, nor could it move its limbs much, but I hardly noticed -that. I sat on the freshly washed floor and played happily. My brother -got a knife with but one blade, the kind that is used in our country -to cut the grapes with. The next day, when my mother was about to wash -us—an operation which was performed on the table—my brother told me -that he did not consider my doll to be beautiful,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> whereupon I answered -that I did not think his knife was a real knife. "Shall I," he asked, -when my mother had left us to fetch something out of the kitchen, -"shall I try it on your leg?" I don't believe I liked the idea; but -too proud to go back on what I had stated, I allowed it at once. After -that I felt a quick pain, and a few drops of blood showed on the white -cloth whereon we sat. When I saw the blood, however, I began to cry, -and my mother returned to the room. My brother was frightened too, but -he laughed nevertheless, and asked me whether I did believe now that -his knife was a real knife. After my mother had bandaged up my leg, she -gave my brother a sound whipping with a birch that Father Christmas had -left on the previous day for naughty children.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter II</h2> - -<p>One day all our furniture was moved and put on a furniture-van. When -everything had gone, my mother took my brother and myself to another -house, where we recognized our furniture at once. As it had grown late, -my mother gave us our supper and put us to bed. Next morning we were -both frightfully busy. We examined the little courtyard, and found a -brooklet flowing right through it. Then we discovered a narrow wooden -plank leading over to the other side. For a few moments we dared not -speak, but looked at each other with grave yet beaming eyes. At last my -brother broke the silence, and spoke in a soft, awe-struck voice:</p> - -<p>"Shall we?" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't we?"</p> - -<p>"I am afraid."</p> - -<p>"Coward!"</p> - -<p>After these last words my brother looked round cautiously and, nobody -being in sight, prepared to go over. Seeing his determination I -summoned my vanishing courage and held on to his coat, a thing of -which he graciously approved. The other side of the yard was certainly -much prettier than the one we had just quitted. It is true that it was -paved like the other side, but in a corner I discovered some flowers -which I thought were the most wonderful flowers that I had ever seen. -They grew on stalks, much taller than I was, and were of a colour that -reminded me of cinnamon, as I had seen it in my father's shop. But the -most wonderful part about them, and that I only found out afterwards, -was that they closed themselves up in the evening, and opened again -in the morning. That corner with the flowers now began to play a very -important part in my life. Whilst my brother was busy over catching -flies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> or launching a paper boat into eternity, I sat amongst my -flowers and never for a moment grew tired of looking at them. They did -not, however, belong to us, but were the property of some other people -who lived in the same house as we did. And that was the reason why my -brother did not pluck them, as he would have done without doubt had -they belonged to us.</p> - -<p>One day, when we played in the yard as usual, my father appeared all -of a sudden and called us to him. It was not often that he left his -shop in the daytime, and therefore we felt much surprised to see him. -He told us that we had got a little sister. The news electrified us, -and we ran into the house. But as soon as we beheld the scrap of a -being that my mother handled so carefully, we calmed down considerably -and regarded her with critical looks. She was much too small to take -part in any of our games, and to bring her over the plank was utterly -impossible. So we did not for a long time care much about her, and -everything remained as it had always been. My brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> and I were -together constantly, and I believe indispensable to each other.</p> - -<p>When I was six years old my mother sent me to school. I think I liked -it very much because of the school-bag, and the things it contained. -A book—a single mysterious book—a slate, a slate-pencil. The -slate-pencil had a beautiful red paper wrapped round it, and mother -told me not to drop it, as it might break. On the day appointed, she -took me there herself. My brother also wanted to come, but he was -told that he was far too small. He had to stay at home, and I left -exceedingly proud. Confronted with the schoolhouse, however, I grew -very still. It was a large, beautiful building, with walls so calm and -dignified that I was struck with awe. My mother brought me into my -classroom, and told me to be a very good girl. Then she left me, and -I was alone with the other children. My place was right in front, and -next to me sat a little girl with very long, fair plaits, the daughter -of one of the teachers. The fact of having so aristocratic a neighbour -made me more silent still. I hardly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> dared to look up; but that -embarrassment soon passed away. She herself broke the spell by telling -me that she, too, was going to be a schoolmistress some day. Then I -told her about our yard, the brooklet, and the plank. She listened very -attentively to all I had to tell her, and soon we became great friends. -Her name was Hilda. Next to Hilda sat the daughter of a baker, who was -called Leopoldine. She also became my friend.</p> - -<p>My life had now changed completely. At school we arranged where to -meet in the afternoon, and every day grew to be a great event. It -happened sometimes that my new friends paid me a visit. Then we played -in the yard, and I felt proud of my flowers. But I don't think my -little friends really cared for them as much as I did. Both Hilda -and Leopoldine were fond of fishing out all sorts of rubbish from -the brooklet, and climbing up the wall that separated the houses. -Leopoldine came to see me more often than Hilda, who, as I knew and -perfectly understood, was not allowed to have many friends. It was for -that reason that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> I hardly ever saw her anywhere but at school. She was -the one I loved best. Our meetings, however, were usually held round -the church. The church was placed in the centre of a large square, -and possessing many a nook and corner, made an ideal spot for all our -games. My brother was as a matter of course a very constant member. -Another little boy joined us now and again, and then my brother was -most happy. He liked boys decidedly better than girls; "girls," he used -to say, "are silly."</p> - -<p>By-and-by I got to know different people who lived in the village. -Leopoldine took me one day to friends of hers, whose little house was -situated close to the grave-yard. The man was a dyer by trade, and -I thought him very interesting. He had a long beard that was raven -black, and hands not a shade lighter. His hands were so black because -of his trade. His wife was stout of figure and red and round of face. -In one of the rooms there stood a cupboard with glass doors. It -contained glasses that were never used, and cups that had flowers and -names painted on them. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>cupboard soon claimed my whole attention. -Whenever we went there again after that first visit, the dyer's wife -gave us an apple or perhaps a piece of white bread. She was very kind -to both of us, but did not often speak to me. It was chiefly my friend -to whom she addressed her remarks. But that I did not mind in the -least. I was so happy to sit in front of that cupboard and look at the -things. At first I thought everything equally perfect, but by-and-by -my attention was concentrated upon one particular piece. This was a -small statue of the Holy Mother, dressed all in white except the veil, -which was edged light blue. One evening a wonderful thing happened. -The dyer's wife talked with Leopoldine, who, by-the-by, fidgeted about -on her chair in the fashion that children do, and I stared at the Holy -Mother. She seemed to be even more beautiful than ever, and just when -I was wonderingly thinking whether or not I, too, might look as pretty -with a white frock and the very same veil on, our hostess stepped up -to the cupboard, singled out the object of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> admiration, and placed -herself in front of me. I trembled with delight. Never had I been so -close to it. The glass doors had, though kept spotlessly clean, always -hidden parts of its dainty beauty from my longing eyes. And now, there -stood the woman holding it in her large, red hands, so that the Holy -Mother looked whiter than it had done before.</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything about the Holy Mother?"</p> - -<p>Thinking that she noticed how much I loved the little figure, I grew -hot with shame. At last I nodded and said that she was the Mother of -Jesus. And then the most wonderful thing happened to me. Pressing the -Holy Mother into my hands, the woman said: "There, you may have it." I -cannot tell how I got home that day. All I know is that I came home too -late, and that my father whipped me with one of those much regretted -Christmas birches.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter III</h2> - -<p>Meanwhile another little sister had arrived, and (I believe it was for -that reason) our lodging grew too small. The furniture-van stopped once -more in front of our door, and two men carried everything away. Our -new lodging was most beautiful. At least I thought so. It consisted of -four rooms and a large kitchen. My mother took a maid to help her with -the house-work, and my father employed a young fellow in his shop. The -business did well, better than it had done in the beginning, and my -parents began to be regarded as "well-to-do" people.</p> - -<p>The house we now occupied stood almost next to the house of my friend -Hilda, a circumstance deeply appreciated by me. Once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> when she came -to see me, I showed her all over the place, and directed her special -attention to a few new pieces of furniture which my mother had bought -in order to furnish all the rooms. There was one room that my mother -called the "drawing-room," and of which I was extremely proud, -although it had nothing in it but a table, a few pictures and a cheap -flower-stand.</p> - -<p>Whenever I went into this "drawing-room" I felt as if I was entering a -church. The same sensation took hold of me when I showed Hilda in, and -I was not surprised that she left the room immediately, believing her -to be dazzled and overwhelmed.</p> - -<p>There was also a courtyard belonging to the house; it was a very large -one with chestnut-trees growing in it. The trees were old and had -wide-spreading branches. We children loved the place and enjoyed it -with all our hearts. In one of the corners there stood a carriage, or -rather a manure-cart, which attracted us greatly. One day we pretended -to have a wedding. Leopoldine's brother was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> bridegroom and I the -bride. I twisted a bunch of buttercups into a wreath and took a towel -for a veil. After that we took our seats in the cart and pretended -to drive to church. With the assistance of the bridegroom I got out -again, and the priest (one of the children) performed the ceremony. We -had seen many weddings in the village church and did everything in the -proper way. When the decisive question was put at last, we both looked -very solemn and said gravely, "I will."</p> - -<p>On another day I quarrelled with Hilda, I must have said or done -something that she did not like, and it was evident that she wanted -to make me cross. It happened towards sunset. Hilda stood with her -back against the wall of the house opposite to ours and looked at me -scornfully. Her mouth was twisted contemptuously, her whole attitude -expressed deliberate challenge. For one brief moment we looked at each -other like two embittered opponents, but all at once I felt confounded -by her words:</p> - -<p>"Your drawing-room looks ridiculous." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - -<p>Never, never before did I feel so utterly unhappy, and I turned away -with burning cheeks. My mother was about to call me in, so I hastened -towards her. "Mother," I cried, half choked with tears, "Hilda said our -drawing-room looks ridiculous." My mother smiled, and as she took me up -the stairs into the little parlour, she said: "That does not matter, -dear."</p> - -<p>Like a child I soon forgot that incident, but afterwards whenever I -entered the room in question, I was struck with its emptiness, and -tried hard to understand how it was that I had ever found it beautiful; -and although my mother had bought a green cover for the table, the -reverential feeling that I had experienced so often returned no more.</p> - -<p>After a time I no longer liked to go to school, and I do not think -that I made any progress with my lessons. My exercises were done -only because I was afraid of getting punished. Ambition I had none. -Geography and history I did not care for, and doing sums I positively -hated. Furthermore, my teacher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> had found out that I had no voice and -consequently excluded me from singing. The only thing that I really -liked was to form sentences. But that subject we had only once a week, -and it was done in the following manner.—The teacher wrote with his -chalk different words on the blackboard, and we had to use them in -simple or compound sentences. There was not one word which I could not -have brought into a sentence somehow, whereas all the other children -sat silent, and never showed any aptitude for the subject. During the -rest of the lessons I was inattentive and tried continually to chat -with my neighbours. Very often I was punished.</p> - -<p>We were also taught scripture every Friday. A young priest whom we -called "catechist" came to the school and read the catechism to us. I -do not remember whether I behaved any better during that lesson, the -only thing I know is that I felt strangely moved when the tall figure -of the catechist, clad in a long black gown, entered our schoolroom -and took his seat with an air of dignity. In my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> opinion the young -catechist was a handsome man. His eyes were blue, his hair was thick -and brown, but his mouth was always shut tightly, and he struck me as -hard and proud. When I think of that time, I can see the schoolroom -again. None of the children were more than ten years old, and while we -sat perfectly still the catechist asked one question after another.</p> - -<p>"Who created the world?" Whereupon a young voice answered:</p> - -<p>"God created the world."</p> - -<p>"What does that mean—to create?" Another voice:</p> - -<p>"To create means to produce something out of nothing."</p> - -<p>"Must all people die?"</p> - -<p>"All people must die."</p> - -<p>These last words always occupied my thoughts, and constantly worried -me. Sometimes I woke at nights from my slumber, and imagined that I -heard the question, "Must all people die?" whereupon a voice answered: -"All people must die." After that I felt <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>inexpressibly sad. I sat up -in my bed, listened to the gentle breathing of my sisters, and wondered -which of us would be the first to die. A maddening fear rushed to my -heart when I thought that my father and my mother had also to die some -day. I could not go to sleep again, but thought about what might happen -if such were the case, and suffered so intensely that I screamed aloud. -Then one of my parents came to my bed and tried to comfort me, thinking -that I had a nightmare.</p> - -<p>The summer always brought to us a most beautiful event. As soon as the -long school holidays began, my mother took us to relations of hers, -who lived at a distant village. The journey lasted six hours, and we -travelled in the post-coach. In reality one could not even call the -place a village, because there was only one house, the home of our -relations. It was a mill, and all around it stretched the glorious -woods of the lower parts of Austria, sometimes interrupted by lovely -meadows, where the grass used to grow to such a height that it towered -above our heads. Close by the mill flowed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> clear, narrow brook, so -narrow in some places that we could quite easily jump over it, in -others so wide that we had to wade through it whenever we wanted to -cross. In front of the house there was a large kitchen-garden that -adjoined a still larger orchard, a spot full of ever new delights. -At one time an apple-tree, as if to tease us, would let a beautiful -apple fall to our feet; at another time the berries of a shrub would -at last begin to show their colouring, and then, again, a wild flower -that had opened overnight. At the very end of the garden there was -also a beehive. Although afraid of the bees we dared to approach them -cautiously, and even advanced to the back of the hive, where little -glass windows enabled us to observe the dear, diligent creatures quite -closely.</p> - -<p>Later on, when the children were many and my fathers business slack, -these visits had to cease owing to the fact that my parents could no -longer afford the price of the post-coach. But the memory of that -lovely, quiet spot, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>connected so closely with a sweet and careless -childhood, still arouses sudden sadness and makes me yearn for it.</p> - -<p>My mother used to take my brother and myself to church every Sunday, -and that place so lofty, so dark, so doleful, and always smelling -strongly of incense, made me strangely shy and still. My mother sat -upon one of the benches, but my brother and I had to stand with the -school children. We were right in front of the altar, and the priest, -together with the sacristan, had to pass us when they left the vestry. -The priest was the same priest who taught us scripture at school, and -I thought him even more handsome in his surplice, made of white lace. -As I never managed to remember when we were to kneel during the Mass, -I simply imitated the others; but no matter whether I knelt or stood -up, I always watched the priest, and followed all his movements. With a -feeling of profoundest reverence I looked at him, and saw how he mixed -the wine and drank it, how he swung the censer solemnly, how he prayed, -with folded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> hands, out of the holy book, and kissed it reverently at -the end....</p> - -<p>My brother, as a matter of course, had also started school, and spent -most of the time with his schoolfellows. We were not so much together -now, but had, nevertheless, plenty of opportunity to quarrel; he grew -naughtier from day to day, and my poor mother was unable to manage him. -When my father came home in the evening I, in my little bedroom, could -hear my mother crying and declaring that she could stand it no longer. -Then my father used to grow angry and say that he could not possibly -undertake both the education of the children and his business. So -everything remained as it had been.</p> - -<p>When I was twelve years old a great change happened. My father sold -his business, and bought a house (including a business) in a distant -little town. Once more all our furniture was removed, but on this -occasion it was carried to the station. Strange to say we children -were not informed about it until the last hour, so that I had left the -church-square<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> the previous evening in the usual manner and never said -good-bye to anyone.</p> - -<p>It was getting dark when we arrived at Hohenburg; a carriage drove us -home from the station, and my father showed us all the rooms of the -first floor. Another floor had been added according to my father's -orders, but he would not let us go upstairs that evening. My mother put -us to bed and told us not to forget our dreams, since dreams dreamt the -first night at a place one has never seen before come true. I listened -attentively to what my mother said, and on the morrow I pondered over -my dream. "Mother," I said, "I dreamt that we had gone back again to -Langenau." My mother smiled, shook her head, and said she did not think -that my dream could come true.</p> - -<p>The first days and weeks passed quickly, and were full of sweet -excitement. My brother and my sisters, as well as myself, made new -friends immediately, and I do not think that at this time I thought -much about my old friends. The people who lived in the house beside us -called my mother "landlady," and I believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> my mother liked to hear -that. She also took a new maid, whom I thought to be a person of great -importance. Very often she used to tell me stories about men, and -confided in me her approaching marriage. Whenever she mentioned that -coming event she looked exceedingly happy and proud, so I came to the -conclusion that "to marry must be something beautiful," and wished to -marry too. I confessed it to our maid, but she said that I was not old -enough.</p> - -<p>"How old, then, must a girl be to be able to marry?"</p> - -<p>And to this question she replied:</p> - -<p>"I cannot say for certain; some girls marry early, some marry late."</p> - -<p>I decided to marry early.</p> - -<p>After we had been at the new place for a considerable time, I began -to notice that something was going wrong. I could see that my father -looked thoughtful, even sad, and that my mother cried often. Then my -father went away suddenly, and did not return for many weeks. When he -came back again, he looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> pale and troubled, and my mother never -ceased to cry.</p> - -<p>One day I went into the little kitchen-garden and wanted to sit down on -an old chair which happened to be there. But another girl of my age, -who was the daughter of one of our tenants and had hitherto treated me -very politely, was already sitting on the chair. She did not get up -as I had expected her to do, but crossed her arms above her head and -looked at me sleepily.</p> - -<p>"Get up!" I demanded sullenly.</p> - -<p>"Why should I get up?"</p> - -<p>"Because I want to sit down."</p> - -<p>"Well, sit down on the ground."</p> - -<p>That answer made me terribly angry.</p> - -<p>"Get up!" I shouted, and stamped with my foot; "that chair belongs to -us!"</p> - -<p>The girl laughed, and after a while she said, still laughing:</p> - -<p>"Nothing whatever belongs to you; everything has been seized from your -people; all you have left is debts."</p> - -<p>Then she sprang to her feet, pushed the chair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> back with such violence -that it fell to the ground, and ran off.</p> - -<p>I stood like one stunned and could not for a while understand what she -had said; but then I remembered how often my mother cried, how sad my -father looked, and all at once my veil of ignorance was lifted. I went -back into the house, but as shyly and softly as if I were a criminal, -and sat down silently on a chair. My mother sat at the table with -the youngest child in her arms, and looked at me in surprise. I was -generally very noisy, and upset a chair three times before I sat down.</p> - -<p>"Have you quarrelled with someone?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"No; but I should like to know whether what everyone says is true."</p> - -<p>My mother trembled a little.</p> - -<p>"What nonsense! What does everyone say?"</p> - -<p>"That we have nothing left but debts."</p> - -<p>My mother got up from the chair and put the child on the bed; then she -pulled the table-cover <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>straight, and stared hard at an empty corner of -the room.</p> - -<p>"By-the-by," she said, as if she was really thinking of something quite -different, "who said that?"</p> - -<p>When I had told her she sighed deeply. No other sound was heard in the -room.</p> - -<p>"Should you like to go back to Langenau?" she asked after a while.</p> - -<p>I felt surprised and delighted. Hilda, Leopoldine, the old church, and -lots of other things came into my thoughts and made me long for them -boundlessly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, mother," I cried, "it would make me so happy!"</p> - -<p>During the following week all our furniture was moved again and sent -away. We were all frightfully excited; only my father was quiet, and -looked grave and pale. We arrived at Langenau late in the evening, and -drove to a new lodging. The whole village seemed to be asleep, and -nobody saw our arrival. We had been away for a year. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> - -<p>I did not like the new lodging; it was underground, and the water -dripped down the walls, leaving trails of a dark brown colour behind. I -could hear my mother say that the lodging was damp and unhealthy, and -that she had never thought one could become so poor. Then my father -answered that she must not lose courage, but have a little patience, -and he would try to find something better as soon as his business -proved to be satisfactory. They spoke for a long time upon this -subject, and I understood that the business in question was a new one, -and that most probably it would take a little while to get customers.</p> - -<p>My chief reason for thinking the lodging horrible was that we were a -long way from the house of my friend Hilda. Furthermore there was no -pretty courtyard, nor any other place in which we could run about and -play. Three other tenants lived in the same house, and my mother told -us to keep very quiet, because, if we made too much noise, the people -might complain about us to the landlord.</p> - -<p>As soon as breakfast was over, I wanted to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> run to the church-square, -partly to see whether everything was the same as it had been before, -and partly to speak, if possible, to my friends. Just as I was about to -close the door, my mother called me back.</p> - -<p>"Where do you want to go?"</p> - -<p>"I am going out."</p> - -<p>"That won't do," my mother's troubled voice rang; "the whole place -looks untidy, and you know that I have no maid. If you want to go out, -you must at least take the two little ones with you."</p> - -<p>"I will certainly not take them," I said, and tears filled my eyes. -"They are far too small for our games."</p> - -<p>"I am very sorry, but you will have to play something that the little -ones can play also."</p> - -<p>At first I would not consent, and decided to stay in; but as it was -nearly eleven o'clock, the time when I knew that my friends left the -school, I could resist no longer. I took the two little ones, not very -gently I believe, and went away. My sister was about two years old and -was able to walk, while my brother was still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> quite small and had to be -carried. My sister clung to my skirt, and so we walked along slowly, -much too slowly for my impatience. A few people, mostly those who were -about to go to their work in the vineyards, looked at me strangely, -spoke to each other, and laughed as they passed. I felt as if they -were laughing at me, and I was terribly ashamed because I thought they -all believed me to be the mother of the two children. It was very -foolish of me to think such a thing, but at that time I did not know -that a girl of my age could never be suspected of being the mother -of children; all I knew was that it was considered a disgrace for an -unmarried girl to have a child. My anger concentrated therefore on the -two innocent little creatures, and I felt very much inclined to beat -them.</p> - -<p>We got to the school at last, and I noticed with great satisfaction -that the lessons were not finished, and that I was likely to catch my -friends. After a few minutes I heard the great noise that was made when -the boys were getting ready to go. Then they appeared, pair after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> -pair, and my heart beat faster. After the boys came the girls. First -the very small ones, then the class I had been in. Hilda and Leopoldine -appeared at the same time, and I trembled with joy and excitement when -I saw them coming along in the gay, careless fashion characteristic of -children. My time seemed to have arrived. I stepped out of the corner -in which I had hidden myself, and called their names aloud. Both of -them turned round at once, and dragging my little sister behind me, I -ran towards them.</p> - -<p>"Anna!" they called, but then they looked at each other and kept -silent. I knew at once that something was the matter, and the blood -mounted into my cheeks. In order not to let them see my embarrassment I -controlled myself, and asked with apparent indifference:</p> - -<p>"Where shall we go?"</p> - -<p>"We are not allowed to speak to you," said Leopoldine at last; "your -father is locked up."</p> - -<p>"Was," corrected Hilda softly, and then they ran away before I even -knew what they meant. A little boy, whom I had seen in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> company of -my brother many times before, came along, said something very rude as -he passed and put his tongue out at me. But what did that boy matter? -What did the whole world matter now? I stood as if I was dazed, and -might have stood there longer if my little brother had not begun to -cry. That made me conscious of a terrible shame and of a sharp pain in -my arm, and I felt that the child was heavy. I noticed also that it was -nearly dinnertime and knew that my mother was waiting for me. I called -my little sister, who had been ceaselessly picking up stones from the -ground, and, avoiding the crowded streets as much as I could, I made -for home. My mother was standing in front of our gate, and looking -searchingly up and down the street. Having caught sight of us she came -to meet me and took the boy from my arms.</p> - -<p>"Where have you been?" she asked; "you look hot."</p> - -<p>"I am terribly hungry," I said, and slipped into the house while my -mother followed slowly with the children. Soon afterwards we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> sat down -to dinner, and my mother was busily preparing the food for the little -ones. I helped her a little, handing her a fork, a spoon, or anything -that was beyond her reach. After a pause of some length my mother said: -"Did you see any of your friends?"</p> - -<p>"No," I replied without hesitation, hastily swallowing a large -mouthful. I could feel how the blood rushed back into my cheeks, not -because I had told a lie (I often told lies), but because I heard the -cruel words hum in my head again.</p> - -<p>"You are getting quite a big girl now," my mother continued after a -pause, "and you could make yourself very useful at home, if it were not -that you have to go to school again."</p> - -<p>A silly, incomprehensible fear immediately gripped me. Until that -moment I had not thought of having to go to school again. "Mother," I -said, and lifted up my arms imploringly, "pray do not send me to school -again."</p> - -<p>"You are getting more and more lazy; you ought to be ashamed of -yourself." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> - -<p>"So I am," I answered rudely.</p> - -<p>My mother got up from the chair suddenly, and I thought that she was -going to beat me for such an impudent answer. But she did not beat me; -she bent down to one of the little ones and, with her face turned away, -told me to clear the things from the table.</p> - -<p>During our stay at Hohenburg I had scarcely learnt anything, and when -my mother took me to school the next day, the headmaster found that -out at once. He declared that I was not by any means able to join the -fourth class, but must take up the third class once more. My mother -never understood why I looked so exceedingly happy when the headmaster -told me that.... I was now at least spared the company of those "two." -The mere thought of them became unbearable to me. I decided never to -go near them again, and to avoid everything that could bring me into -touch with them. But if it happened now and then that we met during -the recreation, which we had all to spend out in the garden, I quickly -looked in another direction. Hilda and Leopoldine were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> together almost -constantly, and it was only sometimes that I met Hilda by herself. She -passed me then with eyes cast down, but inwardly I felt that she loved -me still and only did not speak because she was forbidden to do so. -At such moments I loved her more than I had ever done before; I even -thought of walking up to her and speaking to her again. But whenever -I wanted to put that thought into action, my feet refused to move; I -stood like one rooted to the ground, and all that I was able to do was -to look after her and watch how she went away slowly, sometimes very -slowly.</p> - -<p>One day I heard from a schoolfellow that Hilda had been sent to Krems -in order to join a seminary for school-teachers. After that I felt as -lonely and wretched as a child has ever felt. It is true that she had -never spoken to me again, but her figure was the most vivid picture -in my mind, and to watch her secretly from behind a quiet corner had -filled my heart with a happiness strangely sweet and sad.... "Why," -I thought angrily—"why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> was Hilda sent away? why not Leopoldine?" -Whenever we met, her face wore a malicious smile, the very smile it -had worn when she had said those terrible words to me. I began to hate -her, and prayed every night to God that He might cause her mother (she -had no father) to be locked up too. But her mother never got locked up. -One day when I accidentally passed their house I saw a lot of labourers -busying themselves over it, and when I, driven by curiosity, stole by -in the dusk another evening, the house looked more beautiful than ever. -Henceforth Leopoldine was dressed in very pretty clothes, and the smile -on her face grew more and more malicious.</p> - -<p>I had no pretty clothes, and my parents had no pretty house. My -father's business went from bad to worse, and he himself grew to be -taciturn and did not speak to us children for weeks. Another little -brother had arrived too, and my mother worked incessantly. I assisted -her by minding the children and carrying about the baby, but I did not -like doing it and felt utterly unhappy. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<p>My brother had been sent to the High School at Krems because my mother -had set her heart upon it. My father used to point out to her that he -was hardly able to afford the expense, but my mother responded that -Charlie was the cleverest boy that could be found, and that it would be -an everlasting pity to bring him up otherwise. After these explanations -my father was silent, but I am perfectly convinced that he would have -much preferred to apprentice my brother to some trade. Charlie came -home every Sunday and left again on the Monday. On these visits he -treated us all in a most conceited manner, and even declared one day -that country-folk were fools. In spite of that I used to see him off -each time he went away, and felt like crying when the train had steamed -out of the little station.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter IV</h2> - -<p>Without being able to give a satisfactory explanation of my feelings -I grew unhappier from day to day, and at times when I was most sad I -became conscious of a story in my head, and wrote it down, but tore -the paper up again without ever showing it to anybody. My dearest wish -was to be sent to Krems, so that I also might join the seminary for -school-teachers, and I wondered in my heart of hearts whether Hilda -would speak to me then. As a matter of course that secret longing was -in vain.</p> - -<p>The time when I was to leave school approached at last, and I hailed -that event with great delight, for I rejoiced at the thought that in -the future I should not be compelled to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> meet Leopoldine. I had time -to spare now, but I did not help my mother with her housework any more -than before. I did not like staying at home, and wanted to go away. But -whenever I mentioned the subject my mother declared that she could not -spare me yet, and that in any case I was too young to face the world -alone. I felt exceedingly impatient, grew very discontented, silent -towards my mother and my two bigger sisters, and spent, in spite of the -noisy company around me, a very lonely life. My poems were the only joy -I had; they used to come again and again, but I kept them as secret as -before.</p> - -<p>During the course of these events I had entered on my fifteenth year, -and into my discontent and restlessness there began to twine themselves -the thoughts, the dreams, and the wishes of a girl of my age. I knew -that all the girls who had left school with me were already associating -with young men, and I wondered which of the young men of the village -I could love. But I soon discovered that there were none at all who -pleased me, because they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> all very rude, and constantly alluding -to things which made me blush. Contempt and disgust were the only -feelings they aroused within me, and it was clear to me that Langenau -did not hold the hero of my dreams.</p> - -<p>The young men themselves hated me. Whenever they spoke to me I -responded shortly and tartly, and if any of them tried to pinch my arm -or stroke my cheek, I stepped back and uttered an angry exclamation. -After that they used to say that I had better not be so affected, if -they were good enough to look at me despite the fact that my people -were deeply in debt. I was perfectly used to such words, and knew that -those who spoke them were speaking the truth, since the same thing was -said at home without anyone contradicting it.</p> - -<p>Owing to the fact that my father could afford the fees no longer, my -brother had been compelled to leave the High School, and was serving -his time in a business.</p> - -<p>I suffered under these conditions more than I can ever say. My only -wish was to go away from Langenau and to live in some place where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> -nobody knew me and where nobody could reproach me. But my mother would -not hear of such a thing. Whenever I spoke about it she comforted me -with the idea of getting away later, and I gave in, simply because I -could do nothing else.</p> - -<p>It was one of my daily occupations to chop up wood in a little -shed. The shed was situated at the back of the house, and close to -the wine-cellar that belonged to the landlord. Wealthy people from -Vienna or the surroundings used to buy wine from our landlord, and -not infrequently a gentleman went down into the cellar, and with the -landlord sampled the different wines. One afternoon I was chopping wood -again—I loved doing it merely because I was all alone in the shed, and -my thoughts could come and go undisturbed. I stood with my back against -the door, and was both chopping and thinking diligently when a shadow -fell suddenly across the wooden sides of the shed; and turning round I -saw one of the gentlemen who used to visit the wine-cellar. He smiled -at me and started a conversation—whether <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>the rough work pleased me, -and so forth. First I felt ashamed of having been observed, but his -winning, open manner soon banished my shyness. While he was speaking he -smiled and entered the shed. But in spite of his friendliness I felt -all at once terribly afraid. I lifted the chopper as if to protect -myself, and said: "Will you please go out?" He smiled with even more -friendliness, and I saw that his teeth were white and even.</p> - -<p>"How shy you are, little one! all I should like to have is a kiss."</p> - -<p>I pressed myself hard against the wooden wall, set my lips tightly, and -raised the chopper higher still. He must have read in my face something -of my determination, because he started to whistle suddenly, and went -out of the shed, going backwards as he left. I would have killed him -had he dared to touch me.</p> - -<p>A young man visited our village sometimes in order to collect sums -of money due to a life insurance company. My parents were in no way -insured, but every month the people next door received a call from him. -One day, instead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> of the young fellow, a smartly-dressed man appeared -who told our neighbours that he was the manager of the company, and -that he himself was collecting on this occasion, because frauds had -been discovered in connection with the young fellow who had collected -previously. After he had left them he knocked at our door, and entered -in the politest fashion possible. He looked so very smart that my -mother wiped a chair with her apron and invited him to sit down. It was -summer, and very hot. The manager seemed to be tired, and asked for a -glass of water. After my mother had filled one of her best glasses with -clear and cool well-water, he emptied it at one draught, after which -he stretched his legs and glanced searchingly through our little room, -that looked poor indeed but was kept very clean. My mother, who is but -a plain woman, felt much flattered at the sight of his unmistakable -comfort, and tried in her humble way to draw him into conversation.</p> - -<p>"Dear madam," the manager said at last, "do you by any chance know of a -young girl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> who could help my wife with her housework?"</p> - -<p>I sat at the window with a half-knitted stocking in my hands, and -slowly let it sink.</p> - -<p>"What I need," continued the grand gentleman, "is a nice girl who will -mind the children and make herself generally useful."</p> - -<p>My mother was just going to say that at present she knew of nobody, but -that she could make inquiries if the gentleman wished—or something -of that sort—when I got up and, standing before the manager, said: -"Perhaps I could be of some use to you?"</p> - -<p>Scarcely had I uttered these words when I felt terrified at the courage -I had shown, and thought that I must have said something very silly and -rude. The manager, however, did not seem to have the same idea, because -he smiled and nodded his head.</p> - -<p>"That would be excellent," and, after a little pause, addressing -himself to my mother, he asked, "When could she come?"</p> - -<p>I was quite prepared to hear my mother reply<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> that I could not go at -all, or even to see her bursting into tears, and was therefore greatly -surprised at what she replied: "If you really care to try her, I could -send her next week."</p> - -<p>At these words I scarcely managed to suppress a cry of delight. The -gentleman then said that he lived at Krems, and that I could come home -sometimes. The day of my arrival as well as a few other things having -been settled, the manager bowed himself out. As soon as the door had -closed behind him I glanced rather shyly at my mother, but she looked -into my eyes steadily and said: "As you absolutely will not stay at -home, it is best that you should go soon to see for yourself what the -world is like." And after a moment she added: "Perhaps you will have -good luck."</p> - -<p>During the rest of the day I tried to do everything I could to please -my mother. I sang the youngest child to sleep, and told the elder ones -stories. In the evening when the children had gone to bed, I promised -my mother that I would work hard and try to save up a little money. -When my father came home and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> heard of my decision, all he said was -that he hoped I could stand the hardship of service.</p> - -<p>The week passed rapidly; my mother washed and ironed the few pieces of -underclothing I possessed, and I mended them as much as possible. I -would have liked very much to buy a little trunk, but my father said -that he had not enough money, so I packed my belongings into brown -paper, and tied up the small parcel with a thick string.</p> - -<p>The manager had arranged to come and fetch me himself. On the appointed -day I stood in my Sunday dress and a faded straw hat, which I had -decorated with a new bright ribbon, awaiting him in our best room. He -arrived very soon; my mother had laid the table, and brought in the -steaming hot coffee and some appetizing white bread. After the manager -had helped himself to enormous portions, he prepared to depart. I -had neither touched the coffee nor the bread, feeling sick at heart, -although nothing could have induced me to make such a confession. -Several times I ran into the kitchen as if to fetch something, but in -reality I wanted to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> wipe away the tears quickly and secretly. The -parting came at last, a scene that could only be a simple one to such a -simple woman as my mother, although behind her coloured frock the dear, -faithful heart trembled and ached....</p> - -<p>"Be good," she called after me, and I nodded back this time with tears -in my eyes.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter V</h2> - -<p>The people to whom I went were Jews. The mistress with her dark hair -and dark eyes seemed beautiful to me. The four children—three boys -and one girl—had all rather reddish hair and freckles, except one of -the boys, who was seven years old and idiotic. I had to take the three -elder children to school and fetch them home again, to tidy the rooms -and to keep the kitchen in order. The lady did the cooking herself. As -the idiotic boy did not go to school, he was constantly around me and -chattered to me all day long in unintelligible sentences. Often he tore -off his clothes and ran about naked. In the beginning I was afraid of -him, but I soon noticed that with the exception of a few disagreeable -things, to which one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> had to get used, he was perfectly harmless. Many -times during the day he would come and spit into my face. At first I -could hardly bear this, but by-and-by I got to know his movements, and -quickly turned away when I saw him coming. But worse still than this -poor boy was his brother, a boy of twelve years, who had a horrible way -of speaking to me, and made me feel as much as possible that I had to -obey him. The girl I liked the best.</p> - -<p>I had not been in this family for two months when I noticed that the -circumstances of the manager were no better than those of my parents. -People frequently came to the door and asked me if they could see the -manager. But as soon as I announced such a visitor the manager became -furious, and told me to tell the people to go to hell. I soon got to -know that these were all creditors asking for their money. It had been -decided that I should receive eight shillings each month, and I could -scarcely wait the day on which my wages fell due. When I left home I -only possessed one pair of shoes, and these were almost in shreds. -Therefore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> I thought of getting a new pair of strong shoes and also a -small notebook into which I could copy my verses, which, although my -work was plentiful, I did not stop writing. But yet I felt as lonely -as before. I could easily have made acquaintances, but I did not wish -to. The cook at the next house often spoke to me, and told me once -that every second Sunday she went out with her sweetheart, who was a -corporal; after which she asked me how many times I went out. I told -her that I did not go out at all, and at this she looked at me with -suspicion.</p> - -<p>"Well, I never! then madam very likely allows your sweetheart into her -drawing-room to visit you, eh?"</p> - -<p>"You impudent person, I have no sweetheart!"</p> - -<p>At these words she gave a jeering laugh.</p> - -<p>"So it is as far as that already. You are sick of men; I expect one of -them has left you in the lurch."</p> - -<p>Without answering I turned my back on her, and afterwards we saw each -other as little as possible. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> - -<p>I began to hate everybody with whom I came in contact: the baker -because he had always some nasty words ready, which made me cast down -my eyes and caused the blood to rush to my head; the milkman for the -same reason; and the family itself because it was plain that the man -was a liar. To my great disappointment I had not received my wages, and -so I wrote my verses, which were even more frequent now, on paper bags -that had previously contained such things as rice, tea or sugar; and -these verses I carefully kept and put away.</p> - -<p>One day I had just come back from a walk with the children, and after I -had put the youngest child into the cot I went into the kitchen to warm -his milk; on entering the kitchen whom should I see but Madam standing -calmly in front of the drawer in which I kept my belongings. The drawer -was open and my mistress held in her hands one of those paper bags that -I knew so well. I was frightened and furious at the same time, but -the respect which, at least outwardly, I had for that very indiscreet -person prevented me from uttering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> any angry exclamation. With an -amused and astonished face she turned towards me and held up the bag, -"You have never told me about these things," she said, seeming not at -all troubled at being detected in that mean action. "If you please," I -answered, trying to get hold of the bag, "it would not have been worth -the while." She still wore the amused smile on her face. "No, let me -have it, I am going to show it to my husband."</p> - -<p>"For God's sake, no!" I cried in dismay.</p> - -<p>"Why not? I like the verses very well."</p> - -<p>The whole of my indignation and feelings of revolt immediately -vanished. I felt like kneeling down and kissing the hem of her -dress; her words had made me very happy, and from that day forward I -recognized in her my guardian angel.</p> - -<p>The fact that I as yet had not received my wages made me, it is true, -feel very sad; but I told myself that this must be the manager's fault, -for he ought to have provided her with the money to pay her servant. -But she, and of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> this I was perfectly sure, never even caught sight of -a single penny.</p> - -<p>My mistress had shown the manager some of the verses discovered in the -drawer, but he had laughed and responded that she had better not turn -my head altogether since I was a good, hard-working girl, and that -there were a far greater number of good poets than good servants in -existence. The manager had to go away to Vienna nearly every week. One -day when he had gone there as usual and the children were put to bed, -Madam came down into the kitchen where I was busily washing up, and -said: "Anna, I want to speak to you."</p> - -<p>I thought that she was going to pay me my wages at last, and my heart -beat faster. She sat down on a kitchen chair, and watched me silently -for a while. Suddenly she began again:</p> - -<p>"Tell me why you have not been truthful with me?"</p> - -<p>I was startled and looked at her in surprise, but my conscience was -clear, and so I answered quietly: </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I don't know what you mean, Madam."</p> - -<p>She tapped the floor impatiently with her feet, and said:</p> - -<p>"No pretences, please. You remember that you told me once that you had -no sweetheart, but that poem"—and oh, horror and dismay! she held up a -paper bag on which I had written only the day before, and which I had -never intended to show to anybody—"that poem does not say the same. -Where is he? What profession is he in? Have you got his photo?"</p> - -<p>I took my hands out of the hot dish-water, and covered my face.</p> - -<p>"Don't be so silly," she continued. "I am a married woman, and you may -trust me. Now, come, out with it," and while she said that she looked -at me half commandingly, half lovingly. My hands dropped, and I noticed -how very red and ugly they were. A new shame overcame me.</p> - -<p>"It is true," I said at last.</p> - -<p>"That you have got a sweetheart?"</p> - -<p>"No; I mean that I have not got one."</p> - -<p>"But this poem?" and, greatly puzzled, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> looked down at the bag that -was smelling of coffee.</p> - -<p>"I don't know who he is, nor where he is;" and with sudden courage: -"all I know is that he does exist."</p> - -<p>"But, pray, where have you seen him, then?"</p> - -<p>"I have never seen him at all, except in my thoughts."</p> - -<p>"Oh" she exclaimed, and rising with a yawn, she began to leave the -kitchen; but at the doorway she turned round once more and said: "As -long as you know him only in your thoughts he can do you no harm."</p> - -<p>Scarcely had the door closed behind her, when I flew at the drawer, -pulled out the bags, and threw them into the fire. I watched until -the flickering flames had destroyed every bit of them, then I leaned -against the grey wall of the kitchen and wept bitterly.</p> - -<p>Oh, for those tears in that grey kitchen! Oh, for those dreams in that -grey kitchen! Every moment my heart yearned in incomprehensible longing -for him. When would he come? Oh, when? When would he come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> to take me -away, like the princes came in the fairy tales to woo a shepherdess or -a kitchen-maid? I felt so sure that we were destined to meet some day, -but it seemed a long, long way off. Sometimes a doubting fear would -overcome me. How if the picture of my dreams—that picture so proud, so -far away—should never turn into a form of flesh and blood, but ever -be a dream! At such moments I was weak and foolish. I looked down at -my hands, which were so red and ugly from washing-up and scrubbing. If -no man would ever love me because of my red and ugly hands, what then? -At that question my soul trembled, and tears thronged into my eyes. -The next second, however, I smiled at my fears; a line or two out of -my poems had fallen into my thoughts. What did it matter that my hands -were red and ugly? What did hands matter at all? What had the heart, -the mind, the soul of a man or woman in common with his or her hands? -The man of my dreams was not a man who would love a girl only for -her beauty. No; he would love me for the purity of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> thoughts, the -chastity of my longing, and for that wonderful part of my being that -made me write my poems and dream all day.</p> - -<p>Once on washing-day I was standing at the tub, when the door opened and -my mother came in.</p> - -<p>"Mother!" I cried, "why did you not write that you were coming?"</p> - -<p>"We have not heard from you for so long, and when no letter arrived -yesterday I became worried, and walked over," she said.</p> - -<p>Only then I noticed her tired face and the dust that covered her rough -shoes.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say you walked all that distance?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I did;" and after a little pause; "we must be very careful with -our pennies, business is so bad now."</p> - -<p>I tried hard to keep back my tears.</p> - -<p>"If I only had some money I would gladly give it to you," I said.</p> - -<p>My mother shook her head.</p> - -<p>"Don't be silly. You need your money yourself. Have you managed to save -a little?" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No," I answered very slowly.</p> - -<p>"Let me see, you have been here for a year now"—she began to count by -the aid of her fingers—"and your wages are eight shillings a month." -She counted again. "That ought to have left you something. I am afraid -you are careless, my dear."</p> - -<p>Seeing that she looked at me with tender but reproachful eyes I cuddled -down beside her.</p> - -<p>"No," I said, "I am not careless; but—"</p> - -<p>And then I told her that I had never received my real wages; only just -enough to buy some very necessary articles of clothing, or to have a -pair of shoes mended when it was urgently required. I felt very much -ashamed to tell her this, since my own stubbornness was the cause of it -all. My mother sat still, and after a long while she said:</p> - -<p>"I am glad I have come. I have never been quite at my ease, and wanted -to see for myself whether you are happy or not. I have heard of a very -good situation, which would be suitable for you. You would have to look -after three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> children, and to help the cook with the scrubbing. The -household there is kept on a big scale, and you would learn a great -deal."</p> - -<p>I remembered the mad boy, who still managed to spit at me occasionally, -and the sneers of the older boy.</p> - -<p>"I would like to take that place," I said at last.</p> - -<p>My mother got up from the linen-basket on which she had been sitting.</p> - -<p>"It is easy enough," she replied. "I have arranged for a fortnight's -notice with the manager, and if I give it to-day, you are free to go in -two weeks' time. I have seen the lady of the other post; she is very -kind, and does not mind waiting another three weeks. You might just as -well come home for a week. Does that suit you?"</p> - -<p>I nodded in silence, and we parted.</p> - -<p>When I went into the kitchen later on, my mistress was sitting near the -fire as if she had been waiting for me.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry your mother wants you to leave me, but I have always said -that this was too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> rough work for you. I hope you will like your new -situation."</p> - -<p>After the fortnight had passed I again packed up my things into brown -paper, but the parcel seemed to be smaller than it had been a year ago. -When I took my leave my mistress handed me ten shillings, and promised -to send on the rest of the money due to me. Although I knew for a -certainty that she would never do it, I thanked her very much for the -ten shillings, which seemed to be an enormous sum.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter VI</h2> - -<p>I noticed slight changes when I arrived home. The lodging was the same, -but I missed several pieces of furniture, which I knew had formerly -been there. At first I wanted to ask for them, but a strange sensation -of fear and cowardice closed my lips. There was also a pipe lying on -one of the shelves.</p> - -<p>"Who smokes a pipe?" I remarked.</p> - -<p>My mother threw a quick glance at it.</p> - -<p>"Father, of course; he thinks a pipe comes cheaper."</p> - -<p>There were also other things that I thought surprising, but I would ask -no more.</p> - -<p>"I dare say you know that Charlie has left his master," said my mother.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How should I know? Nobody has told me; where is he?"</p> - -<p>"With father; I expect they will come in soon."</p> - -<p>Although I felt pleased to see my brother again, of whom I had heard -nothing all the time he had been away, I was not pleased that he had -broken off his apprenticeship and had to begin afresh.</p> - -<p>My mother had started to put the children to bed and to lay the table. -When it was dark my father came in with my brother, and after the -simple greetings were exchanged we sat down to supper. I noticed now -how handsome my brother had become. Although he was only sixteen years -of age, he was much taller than my father, and of such gracefulness -that I could hardly take my eyes from him. His face was very beautiful. -His eyes blue and large, and shadowed by most exquisite lashes. On his -upper lip a fair, downy moustache showed, but his under-lip was, I -thought, just a little too full. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What are you going to do now?" I asked him once during the meal. -"Speaking frankly, you are too big (and too handsome I had almost -added) to be an apprentice."</p> - -<p>"You are right, my beloved sister," he answered with a touch of scorn -in his voice; "for that sort of position I have grown too big and, to -tell the truth, too superior."</p> - -<p>"Too superior?" I asked in amazement, and noticed how white and -beautiful his hands were. He looked at his well-kept nails thoughtfully -for awhile.</p> - -<p>"Yes, too big and too superior to have my ears boxed."</p> - -<p>"Did they?" I gasped, not daring to complete my sentence.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and that's why I ran away."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you ought to have stayed there, after all," remarked my mother -somewhat timidly. "What will you do now?"</p> - -<p>He gave my mother a look that alarmed me. It was an ugly, almost -threatening look, which robbed his face of all its beauty. But as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> -conscious of the impression produced upon me, he calmly leant back on -the wooden chair and smiled self-contentedly.</p> - -<p>"There is no need for you to lament," he said, addressing my mother; "I -shall not be a burden to you.... I am going to Vienna," he finished, -turning to me.</p> - -<p>"To Vienna?" I asked. "What are you going to do there?"</p> - -<p>He smiled again, and on this occasion contemptuously.</p> - -<p>"I don't know yet; but there is no need to worry about such a fellow -as I am; it is true that I have no money, but here (he pointed at his -forehead) I have got something that is worth more than money," and -after this introduction he started to picture his future.</p> - -<p>"To begin with," he said, "it is undoubtedly a great misfortune to be -born in the country. Think of the vast possibilities that are open to -you in town. There are the well-managed schools, the places of historic -importance, the innumerable means of earning a living, and the very -air of culture and refinement that envelopes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> everybody. There is no -real work in the country, and there never will be. It is true that -the people get up in the mornings and try to do what there is to be -done; but where is, I ask you, that race of all the different brain -and bodily powers that is so characteristic of life in town, where the -clever man is superseded by the cleverest man, and everybody tries to -reach the top in consequence?... If I were silly enough to stay at -a little country-place, what would become of me? Nothing but a mere -loafer, who drags about quite uselessly the great gift of intelligence -that fortune (my dear, I am above that nonsense of God and Church) has -bestowed upon his cradle or rather upon his brain. I have therefore -decided to throw in my lot with the quickest and cleverest of my age, -and it must be hell itself playing against me if I do not succeed -in getting enough money to enable me to buy a few hundreds of such -dens"—he looked round the room contemptuously—"in a couple of years."</p> - -<p>With my hands folded almost devoutly I sat silent during the whole of -this speech, and did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> not quite know what to make of it. I greatly -admired the graceful flow of his words, as well as his thoughts which -were entirely new to me. Nevertheless there was something within me -that warned me not to surrender the views and ideas I had so far held.</p> - -<p>"I hope you will have good luck," I said at last when he made a little -pause; "but I should like to know what you are going to be."</p> - -<p>"Alas!" he replied, "I can see for myself now that you are not much -better than these folks"—he pointed with his thumb at my parents—"and -that you have never, not even in the least, raised yourself above -the level of your birth. Your way of thinking is the way these folks -think"—he pointed at my parents again—"and they think as their -grandparents did. Progress is to all of you as foreign as China. How -can you be so silly," he continued, somewhat more gently, "to ask me -what I am going to be? How can I tell to-day? At the present I have -not the faintest notion of the conditions and circumstances of Vienna, -and how am I to know which of my capacities is likely to be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> most -eminent? Let me have the choice of a profession, the possibility of a -trial, and I will tell you what I am made of."</p> - -<p>Greatly ashamed of my ignorance, I was silent again.</p> - -<p>"If you possessed brain," my brother continued—"a thing which I am -sorry to say I do not suspect you of after I have had the pleasure -of exchanging these few words"—he bowed ironically—"you might have -perceived by now that I am no ordinary person, but of an artistic -turn of mind. These people"—he pointed again at my parents—"have, -unfortunately, little or no understanding of that, and will in all -probability fail to comprehend the greatness that the future holds in -store for me. That is, however, of little consequence; it is you whom -I expect to escape from your present station in life"—I admired the -delicate way in which he referred to my station—"as soon as possible. -It is true that you will never succeed in reaching the height destined -for me, but you may, nevertheless, go on to perfect yourself in every -way possible, in order to spare me the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> distress of blushing for your -ignorance and social standing later on."</p> - -<p>My father had got up from the table some time before, and with his -hands crossed on his back nervously paced the room. He coughed now and -again, as if something irritated his throat, and it was plain that he -was angry. All at once he stopped in front of my brother.</p> - -<p>"Don't you think," he asked, "that it would be best for you to mix with -your own class of people as soon as possible?"</p> - -<p>"Why, of course," my brother replied with utter coolness, "I have -already decided to leave for Vienna to-morrow; all that I must ask you -is to let me have the money for the journey, a sum so trivial that I -can repay it to you multiplied a hundred times in a few months."</p> - -<p>They looked quite calmly at each other, but it was a calm that seemed -to be loaded with thunder and lightning. My mother must have felt the -same, for she got up rather hastily, and her voice trembled as she -said: "There is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> plenty of time to settle that to-morrow. You had -better go to bed now."</p> - -<p>The thunderstorm, however, broke next day. My brother insisted on a -certain sum of money, which my father thought too great and refused to -let him have the whole of it.</p> - -<p>"Do you want me to reach Vienna without a single penny in my pockets?"</p> - -<p>"I will give you as much as I can spare; there are the little ones to -be thought of; I cannot let them starve."</p> - -<p>"Then you wish rather that I should starve?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think that it would come to that. You are old enough to earn -your living."</p> - -<p>"Old enough! Do you really mean to say that a fellow sixteen years of -age is old enough to earn his living?"</p> - -<p>"Why not? I myself had to leave home when I was only a child of eleven, -and have worked for my living ever since."</p> - -<p>"Worked for your living!" my brother cried scornfully. "Wasting money -and getting into debt to such an extent that no dog will take the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> -trouble to look at us. Do you call that working for your living?"</p> - -<p>The veins showed thickly on my father's forehead.</p> - -<p>"You wretch!" he cried, and flew at my brother's throat, "is that what -I get for having taken endless trouble to bring you up?"</p> - -<p>It was evident that my brother had not expected so violent an outburst -on the part of my habitually gentle father. He grew deadly pale and -tried to free himself from my father's clutch.</p> - -<p>After he had succeeded in doing so, he reached for his hat and turned -to the door. But, before he closed it behind him, he said: "You will -find me in the Kamp, if you should happen to look for me to-morrow."</p> - -<p>What he called the Kamp was a river of considerable depth. After he -had left, the room looked a picture of misery and grief. My mother was -leaning against the wall weeping violently; my father was pacing the -room, his face rigidly set and breathing rapidly; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> smallest of the -children, roused by the noise, had started to cry; and I trembled in -every limb with excitement.</p> - -<p>It was my brother's last words that worried me beyond expression—"You -will find me in the Kamp, if you should happen to look for me -to-morrow."</p> - -<p>I imagined him plunging into the dark green water, sinking slowly and -being found entangled in the tall reeds near the banks. "Mother," I -said, speaking incoherently and almost inaudibly, "do you think that he -will?"</p> - -<p>"Don't ask me anything," she replied; "I am the most unfortunate woman -under the sun."</p> - -<p>During the whole day I hoped that he might still come back. He did -not return, however, and when evening drew near I dismissed all hope -of ever seeing him again. The next day I could not remain indoors any -longer, so I went out and walked towards the river without actually -knowing or wishing it. Every time I saw a group of people coming -towards me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> I stopped in terror, for I believed that they had found -him. Nobody, however, seemed to be on so terrible a mission.</p> - -<p>The people looked gaily at me, and passed on to their work in the -vineyards. When I reached the church square, the very sight of -which was enough to arouse such sad and sweet memories that I felt -more wretched, my brother appeared on the scene. Giving a joyous -exclamation, I hastened towards him.</p> - -<p>"Where did you spend the night, Charlie?"</p> - -<p>But this question did not seem to please him.</p> - -<p>"I certainly expected more tact on your part," he replied, stepping -over to my side, "than even to allude to that distressing scene at -which you were unfortunate enough to be present."</p> - -<p>I did not dare to ask another question, and walked along in silence. -Secretly I was surprised at his composure.</p> - -<p>"I am extremely sorry for your misfortune," my brother said after a -pause. According to my opinion it was he who was the more unfortunate -of the two. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Why are you sorry for me?" I asked him, and regretted the question the -next moment, because his face flushed with anger.</p> - -<p>"How can you ask why, when you yourself were present at this miserable -occurrence, which must have taught you of what low descent you are."</p> - -<p>"I?"</p> - -<p>"Well, of course I mean we, but as I have ceased to belong to these -folks any longer, I cannot help feeling extremely sorry at the thought -that you will have to spend the whole of your life amongst these -narrow-minded people, who are little better than savages. Ever since -yesterday I have thought how I could help you."</p> - -<p>According to my opinion he needed help far more than I did; but he did -not seem to think so.</p> - -<p>"What I have decided to do is this: I will take you down to Vienna, -where I shall watch over you, cultivate any abilities that you may -show—in short, educate you. As soon as I have shaken my boots free -from the dust of this place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> and reached Vienna, I am going to work day -and night in order to save enough money to enable me to write for you, -and to let you learn all the important branches of art and science, -such as languages, music, etc. Do you agree to it?"</p> - -<p>I felt mightily touched at his generosity and could not speak for a -while.</p> - -<p>"As a matter of course," he continued hurriedly, "that cannot be -done right away; you will have to wait a little, and in the meantime -there is nothing to prevent you from accepting the place that mother -has found for you. Your leisure time, however, I want you to fill -up usefully, so that I shall not be ashamed of you when I introduce -you to my friends. I strongly advise you to read Schiller. There is -everything in his dramas that you may need to appear clever and witty -in whatever situation you find yourself. It would be an excellent thing -if you could quote from his works at every possible opportunity. I also -advise you to read Goethe's works. Be careful, however, not to quote -from them, as your mind is not yet ready to fathom the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> profound depth -of his thoughts, and you might fall into the evil habit of quoting -passages at quite inappropriate moments. Perhaps it is better for you -to refrain altogether from reading his deeper works, until I myself -shall be able to expound them to you. But," and a very winning smile -parted his lips, "it is now time for me to say good-bye."</p> - -<p>"Good-bye!" I exclaimed; "where do you want to go to?"</p> - -<p>"I am travelling down to Vienna."</p> - -<p>"But you have got no money!"</p> - -<p>His lips closed, and the winning smile vanished.</p> - -<p>"I can see," he retorted, "that you are backward in every way. -The thing you most lack, and that you need to acquire first, is -tactfulness. Because, alas! one of our family happens to have no -feeling at all, do you really expect everybody to be in the same -miserable state? Always be careful, I tell you, about mentioning -anything that might recall occurrences or situations of a distressing -character. A certain pride exists, which is alive even within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> the most -pitiable wretch ... take care never to rouse that," and holding out his -hand, he said good-bye.</p> - -<p>I did not take his hand, but stared at his beautiful fingers.</p> - -<p>"I don't mean to hurt your feelings," I said almost crying, "but how -can you get to Vienna without a single penny?"</p> - -<p>He frowned, and his handsome face darkened.</p> - -<p>"It seems that I cannot expect from you that delicacy of feeling which -you must possess if you are ever to deserve my affection. But since you -are my sister, and really not to blame for your imperfections—because -it is the duty of parents to attend to their children's education, and -yours, I mean ours, have neglected that important thing entirely—I -will answer your question about the money. You are perfectly right in -suspecting that I have not a single penny, but let me tell you that I -would much rather walk all the distance from here to Vienna than bring -myself to accept another sou from the man who, on account of a strange -accident, is entitled to call himself my father.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> I have tried to find -out when the goods-train leaves for Vienna, and have decided to hide -myself in it."</p> - -<p>I shook my head in horror.</p> - -<p>"No, never!" I cried; "you must not do that. I have got some money," -and I pressed the rest of my ten shillings, which I had carefully -wrapped up in a piece of white paper, into his hand; whereupon I -detected signs of both anger and pity on his face.</p> - -<p>"Surely," he said, "I should be a scoundrel of the meanest order if I -touched this small sum of yours. Far be it from me to do such a thing;" -and he put the money back into my hand. "It is true," he added, "that -you have shown great tactlessness again, but I will forgive you this -time."</p> - -<p>Almost immediately he was gone, and although I was standing in the -street, I began to cry most piteously, regretting my poverty, my lack -of nobleness, even my very existence. I felt convinced that my brother -was not only an artist, but also a hero and a martyr.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter VII</h2> - -<p>The situation in which I started soon after these events differed -somewhat from my first one. There were only three children, a second -maid—the cook—and instead of eight shillings I was promised ten -shillings a month. My duties were the same as before. I had to wash up -the dishes, to scrub the floor, and to take out the children as soon as -I had finished the housework. My new charges behaved much better than -the children of the manager, and I liked them all very much. The cook, -too, was nice. Neither in speech nor in manner was she objectionable, -and sometimes I used to read out my poems to her. She seemed to be very -fond of the verses, and often asked to hear them again. That made me -very happy. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<p>But after some months had passed away, and I became used to the change, -I was conscious again of the old well-known feeling of dissatisfaction -and loneliness. Frequently I used to sit down in a corner and sob -without knowing what was the matter. I was careful not to let the -mistress see my tears, but could not always hide them from the cook, -who was nearly always with me. She had asked me already what I was -crying for, but I could give no explanation.</p> - -<p>One Saturday afternoon, when we were busily scrubbing the floor and all -the different meat-boards in the kitchen, the cook noticed my swollen -eyelids again.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you, I should like to know," she said. "You -are home-sick perhaps."</p> - -<p>I shook my head slowly and thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"I don't think I am home-sick, but I believe I am unhappy because I -can't go and learn anything."</p> - -<p>"Can't go and learn anything!" she repeated. "What on earth do you want -to learn?"</p> - -<p>I hesitated a little. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am sure I don't know. All I know is that I am frightfully silly."</p> - -<p>"Well, I shouldn't say that," she replied good-naturedly. "I quite like -the way you help me in the kitchen."</p> - -<p>"Oh well, yes; but I mean that I don't know how to play the piano, nor -how to speak French."</p> - -<p>"But you do not need such things in service."</p> - -<p>"Quite so; but I don't want to be in service."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed, and then there was a long silence.</p> - -<p>After we had done our work we took off our wet overalls, and put on -clean pinafores. The cook reached down one of the shining saucepans -hanging on the walls, and began to make the coffee, while I went into -the dining-room to lay the table. After I had taken in the tray with -the hot milk, the steaming coffee, and the cups of white porcelain, the -cook and I sat down in the kitchen to take our coffee also. The cook -poured out the coffee, and I noticed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> that her hands trembled a little. -She did not speak, and I was silent too, but I could feel that our -previous conversation occupied her thoughts. When her cup was empty she -put her head into her hands, and looked me straight in the face.</p> - -<p>"Then you want to know French?" she asked abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Well, it need not be exactly French."</p> - -<p>"What else, then?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"That's silly. You must know your own mind, to be sure."</p> - -<p>"I believe that I should like to learn English," I confessed, much -embarrassed and ashamed.</p> - -<p>"I have never heard of a person learning English. Why would you not -rather learn French?"</p> - -<p>"No," I said slowly but decisively, "I would much rather learn English."</p> - -<p>"I have thought of everything," she continued after a pause; "the -mistress must not know about it. She herself has never learnt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> anything -of that sort, and would consider it to be nothing but pride on your -part. But it might be managed, nevertheless, if you would learn only in -the evening after you have put the children to bed."</p> - -<p>"Of course," I cried delightedly; "I would not dream of doing it during -the daytime. There is only one thing," I added thoughtfully: "where -shall I be able to find a teacher in the evening?"</p> - -<p>"A teacher!" cook exclaimed in utter surprise; "do you mean to say that -you want a teacher?"</p> - -<p>I lost heart considerably at her question.</p> - -<p>"Of course, I am sure it is impossible without a teacher."</p> - -<p>"But won't that be too expensive?"</p> - -<p>I assumed great indifference at her remark.</p> - -<p>"I don't think that it could cost much," I said.</p> - -<p>"How much do you think he would charge you?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know exactly, but it won't be above a shilling or two." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But, my dear, you can't afford that."</p> - -<p>"Well, let me see. My wages are ten shillings a month, and I do not -need all the money."</p> - -<p>"Of course not But you have to think of the future."</p> - -<p>"Well, that's just what I am doing."</p> - -<p>The cook did not understand what I meant by these words, and as the -bell rang to show that I was wanted, we dropped the subject, and I did -not dare to touch upon it again in spite of the growing impatience and -longing within me.</p> - -<p>A few days later, however, it happened that the cook spoke of it again -quite abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Do you think that you would get some benefit from it?"</p> - -<p>"From what?" I asked, and looked as if I had no notion of her thoughts.</p> - -<p>"From the English language, of course."</p> - -<p>"Well, if I knew how to speak it correctly I am certain that I could -make a lot of money with it."</p> - -<p>"Where?" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Not here, of course," I replied, and turned my head guiltily away -from her gaze. We had to do the scrubbing again, and the cook devoted -herself to the work almost savagely; but when the kitchen glittered -and shone, and we were once more sitting down to drink our coffee, she -continued:</p> - -<p>"You must try to take your lessons on a Friday evening. The mistress as -well as the master are at the club, and won't be back before eleven. Do -you think you could be back before then?"</p> - -<p>I was happy beyond expression, and would have liked to put my arms -round the neck of that dear simple creature.</p> - -<p>"What do you think!" I exclaimed, wild with joy, and with my hands -folded as if in prayer; "I shall be in much earlier than that." But in -a moment I grew worried again. "Are you sure that the porter won't tell -about it?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind about the porter. I will have a talk with him."</p> - -<p>After that we decided that I should look out for a teacher, and -the matter was settled. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> the following days when I took out the -children, I looked up and down the houses most carefully, and found at -last what I was searching for. "Languages and Music taught here," stood -out clearly from a black board of granite, and the black board was -fastened on to a stately house. In spite of the shyness caused by the -grandeur of the house I longed to go in right away, but the presence of -the children kept me from carrying out my wish. They were old enough -to understand everything, and there was not the slightest doubt that -they would go and repeat my conversation with a teacher of "languages -and music" to their mother. It is true that my mistress was always most -kind to me, but, as cook remarked, she would never have understood.</p> - -<p>When I arrived home I told my friend about my success, and asked her -how I could manage to go there without letting anybody know.</p> - -<p>"The only thing you can do," she said, "is to peep in when you go to -fetch the milk."</p> - -<p>I thought how very ridiculous it would look for me to go into a room -with a large milk-can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> in my hands, and did not like her proposal. -There was, however, no other way if I did not want to arouse suspicion, -so next day I pulled the bell of the imposing house. I could hear it -ring from within, and the sound made me still more uncomfortable. I -wished the milk-can at the bottom of the sea, and while I stood there -waiting I thought for a moment of hiding that disgraceful thing. I -looked round for a suitable corner, but then I was afraid that it might -be stolen, so I kept it in my hand, and only tried to hide it as much -as possible behind me when the door opened and a maid asked what I -wanted. Colouring deeply, I told her why I had come, and she begged me -to step in. She led the way into a room, which I thought was the most -magnificent room I had ever seen. There was a very large looking-glass, -and the very first thing I saw in it was myself. The second thing I -saw was the milk-can, and I looked away quickly; never before had it -seemed to me so big and ugly. A few minutes passed, and still I was -left alone. Just when I was beginning to regret that I had come at all, -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> door opened, and a slender, sweet-looking woman entered the room. -The lady was Risa de Vall, the teacher of music and languages. As soon -as she saw me she smiled a very faint little smile, which I thought -was due to the milk-can, and in my heart of hearts I reproached that -article bitterly.</p> - -<p>"I am told that you wish to take lessons in the English language; is -that so?"</p> - -<p>"If you would be so very kind."</p> - -<p>"Do you live with your parents?"</p> - -<p>I blushed with shame, but answered truthfully:</p> - -<p>"No; I am in service."</p> - -<p>She was silent for awhile, and looked at me with keen, searching eyes.</p> - -<p>"Very well then, my hours are from eight o'clock in the morning till -six o'clock in the evening. When do you want to have your lesson?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I am so very sorry, but I cannot come before eight in the evening."</p> - -<p>And, after I had said that, tears filled my eyes.</p> - -<p>She smiled again, but that time so kindly that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> I felt certain the -milk-can had no part in it, and to my greatest delight I heard her say:</p> - -<p>"I suppose I must make an exception for once, and give you your lesson -at a time convenient to you."</p> - -<p>With some hesitation I asked for her terms, secretly fearing that it -might not be possible after all.</p> - -<p>But I was soon relieved. After looking at me once more very keenly, she -named a price that even I considered ridiculously small.</p> - -<p>When I repeated this conversation to the cook, she looked very grave. -After a long silence she asked me whether I thought that English would -be a difficult language to learn.</p> - -<p>I replied that I did not know, since I had never heard anyone talk English.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter VIII</h2> - -<p>My life now began to be entirely different. All the week I worked gaily -for that one glorious day on which my lessons took place. I had bought -a grammar of the English language, and studied it whenever I could -spare a minute. My teacher seemed much pleased with my zeal, but I soon -found out that she had made up her mind to give me lessons in more -things than English.</p> - -<p>One day when I sat with her in her room, that had never lost its charm -for me, she asked me quite abruptly why a button was missing from my -jacket, and why my nails were always dirty. I felt exceedingly ashamed -at the two questions, and stammered some silly reply. At first I -thought she did not like me, but she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> so sweet during the rest of -that lesson that I felt sure she had grown fond of me. When I got home -that evening the cook was already in bed. She looked at me in surprise -because I did not go to bed at once, as I was in the habit of doing, -but took my sewing-basket and searched its contents.</p> - -<p>"What are you looking for?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"For a pair of scissors."</p> - -<p>"What on earth do you want them for now?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, only for my nails."</p> - -<p>"Which nails?"</p> - -<p>But by that time I had discovered what I wanted, and having sat down on -the edge of my bed, I started to clean one finger after the other.</p> - -<p>"Well," my friend exclaimed, "something has got into your head to be -sure."</p> - -<p>"Nothing at all—but don't you think my hands are simply horrid?"</p> - -<p>"I believe you are really a proud one," she said, and looked at me with -great displeasure.</p> - -<p>During the time that I took my lessons, Miss Risa de Vall was always -zealous to point out to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> me the many great and little things that make -for beauty, order, and usefulness, and never for a moment did she waver -in her noble task. Gently, yet sternly, she checked my often wild -behaviour, dealing firmly and persistently with whatsoever fault she -found with me. After she had known me for about six months she asked -me one evening whether I had no other friend besides the cook. I said -"No," and then she told me that she had had a young lady as pupil in -the town where she used to teach a few years ago. Would I like to write -to her and ask her whether she cared to make friends with me? I was, -of course, eager to get to know the girl so tenderly spoken of by my -beloved mistress, and agreed with all my heart. I wrote to her on the -following day, and received an answer by return of post. Her letter was -brief, but sweet. When I showed the note to the cook, she said: "That -is a real lady, to be sure." I had, of course, no doubt about that. -By the flickering light of the candle, I sat down a few days later to -write to my new friend, but found it extremely difficult to begin. But -after I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> managed to start I never stopped until I had filled at -least four to six pages. What I wrote about were all things of which I -thought constantly, but never confided to anybody—nay, not even to the -cook.</p> - -<p>During all this time I had heard nothing from my brother, and nobody -knew of his whereabouts. One day I got a note from my father in which -he told me that he had received a letter from Charlie. He wrote that -he was very well off, and made quite a lot of money. When I read that, -my heart beat faster. It is true that I never quite believed what he -had said to me at our parting; but now I recalled every word of it, and -wondered in a vague sense whether he was going to take me to Vienna. -I remembered his advice about reading Schiller and Goethe, and felt a -little alarmed because I had not yet done so.</p> - -<p>"There is no doubt," I said to myself, "that he is moving in society by -now, and my utter ignorance of Schiller's dramas would be a source of -constant humiliation to him." The fact that he had not written to me -since he went away did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> not surprise me in the least. I thought that he -had been obliged to work very hard, and had no time to spare. In order -to be prepared for him in case he should really come for me, I made -it my serious business to get a book by Schiller. But where was I to -get it from? I had no money to spare for books, and could not think of -buying one. In the dining-room there was a book-case, but it was always -locked up. The books there seemed to be regarded more for an ornament -than for use, since nobody ever took one out to read.</p> - -<p>But after another five or six months had elapsed, and no further news -was heard of my brother, I gradually forgot those glowing pictures of -an easy future, and finally thought no more about them.</p> - -<p>When I had been at my place for about two years, I happened to make the -acquaintance of a young lady whom I met occasionally in the woods when -walking with the children. She used to sit down on the bench beside me, -and while the children ran about and played among the trees, she would -sometimes start a conversation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Why do you always stay at the same place?" she asked me one day.</p> - -<p>"Where else should I go?"</p> - -<p>"I could not answer that question offhand, but a girl like you ought to -try what luck she can have in the world."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"What do I mean? I mean that a girl like you ought to have quite a -different position from the one you have at present."</p> - -<p>"But why do you say a girl like I am?"</p> - -<p>"No nonsense, if you please; you must know as well as I do, that you -are as clever as you are pretty."</p> - -<p>I thought about what my brother had told me, and then looked down at my -hands.</p> - -<p>"I always thought that I was very silly and very ugly."</p> - -<p>"Fiddlesticks! you are neither the one nor the other, and if I were in -your place I should go to a town and try to get on."</p> - -<p>"To Vienna?"</p> - -<p>"No," she said thoughtfully, and then as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> a new idea had just -occurred to her: "Why don't you go to Buda-Pesth?"</p> - -<p>"To Buda-Pesth? But that is in Hungary: what am I to do there?"</p> - -<p>"The same thing that you do here, but with this difference, that there -you will be regarded as a governess and not as a servant, and you will -receive thrice the wages you receive here."</p> - -<p>I folded my hands slowly and devoutly as I always did when I was moved -by some great emotion. "But," I said at last, "am I ladylike enough for -such a situation?"</p> - -<p>"Of course; if you were not, do you think that I should advise you to -take it?"</p> - -<p>As she said this she stood up, and made preparations to go. She held -out her hand to me and stroked my cheeks.</p> - -<p>"Good-bye then, and think about what I have told you; I am fond of you -and should like to see you happy."</p> - -<p>After she had gone I repeated her words over and over again. It was -chiefly the one sentence that haunted me. "You will be regarded as a -governess and not as a servant, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> you will receive thrice the wages -that you receive here...." Thrice the wages!... I began to reckon in -my thoughts. Three times ten shillings make thirty shillings every -month ... that would be an enormous sum which I could never want all -for myself. No, of course not. But I would send home half of it. My -father's letters told me that business was no better, and a little help -from somebody would be very convenient.</p> - -<p>"Oh, most gracious Lord," I prayed in my heart of hearts, "thirty -shillings every month would mean all the world to us."</p> - -<p>I got home rather late that evening, and my mistress reproached me -gently for not being punctual. For the first time I did not mind what -she said. I had intended to tell the cook of my conversation with the -girl in the woods, but then I thought it better to keep silence about -it, and to wait events. During the following days I looked out eagerly -for my new friend; but a fortnight elapsed before I saw her again. I -hurried towards her, hardly taking notice of her cheerful salute. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Where have you been all the time?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I have been busy at home," she replied, looking in astonishment at -my face that was flushed with excitement. I tried to control myself -and sat down beside her. Although very impatient and very anxious to -continue our last conversation, I did not like to start the subject -myself. She, however, did not seem to have given it another thought. -Not a single word did she say about it.</p> - -<p>When at last it grew dark and I knew that I had to start home, I -took my courage in my hands, and said with as much indifference as -I could assume: "Oh yes, I wanted to tell you that I have thought -about everything you told me the last time, and that I shouldn't mind -taking your advice and going to Buda-Pesth." I noticed that she was -embarrassed, and the next words confirmed my suspicion.</p> - -<p>"My dear," she said, "I am truly sorry to have aroused thoughts within -you that might endanger the peace of your present life."</p> - -<p>All the happiness that I had felt went out of my heart, and with a -voice that was almost a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> sob, I said: "I really don't understand -you.... You yourself said——"</p> - -<p>"Quite so," she interrupted; "I have told you about things which, -however, I regret to have mentioned now that I can see that my mother -is perfectly right."</p> - -<p>"Your mother ... you told your mother about it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, I have often mentioned you to her, and I told her of our -last conversation. She thought it very unwise on my part to have -made you discontented with the safe peaceful run"—she emphasized -"safe"—"of your life."</p> - -<p>"I understand. Your mother does not think that I am ladylike, and that -it might not be quite safe to assume that I should keep my situation."</p> - -<p>But after these weary words the girl put her arms round my neck.</p> - -<p>"You little silly," she said, "don't you know that you are far too good -to go into a situation at all? But since you happen to be poor and have -got to earn your living, it is far better that you should stay at a -place like our dear old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> Krems, where you are less likely to encounter -the dangers that lurk for young people in a big city."</p> - -<p>I had by now grasped the meaning of her words, and felt greatly moved.</p> - -<p>"I understand you, but you need not be afraid.... I am no flirt."</p> - -<p>"Hush," she replied in that soft, soothing voice that mothers use when -quieting their babies; "I know that; but don't you see that it is -hardly ever the flirt, but always the nice decent girl, who is taken -in?"</p> - -<p>"No, no," I answered blushingly; "I am sure that nothing will happen to -me."</p> - -<p>After these words my friend held me a little away from her, and gazed -into my eyes long and earnestly.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't think that anything will happen to you." Then she opened -her little hand-bag and took out an envelope, which she pressed into my -hands very hurriedly as if she was doing something wrong.</p> - -<p>"There," she said, "I have brought it along after all, in case you -wanted to go very much."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> After that she left me quickly, as if afraid -that she might regret what she had done. Then I smoothed out the -envelope and read the few words:</p> - -<p>"Miklosch Sandor, Registry Office, Buda-Pesth."</p> - -<p>I called the children together, and went home as if I was in a dream.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter IX</h2> - -<p>The parting from the family in which I had been so kindly treated for -more than two years; the parting from the cook, who had been a friend -to me in her simple, unspoiled fashion; the parting from my dear -teacher, Miss Risa de Vall; and the parting from home—none of them -were easy to me. Lightest to bear of all these partings was perhaps -the last-named one. My parents had grown so poor during the two years -I had been away that I more than ever longed to help them. When they -knew what I was about to do, and when I further showed to them the -letter from Buda-Pesth confirming my engagement to three children with -a salary of thirty-five shillings a month, they, too, thought in their -homely way that I had at last made my fortune. Out of the little money -I possessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> I bought a small trunk, covered with brown, strong canvas, -such as are used as hand-bags for travelling. But after I had packed -my things, the trunk, small though it was, was only half filled, so -few worldly goods could I call my own. That, however, troubled me but -little. While I was packing the cheap things, one after the other, into -the bag, I was dreaming all the time of thirty-five shillings, and of -the wonderful things I could buy with them.</p> - -<p>On the very day before my departure a letter arrived from my brother. -There had never been an address upon his former letters, but on this -occasion there was one. He told us that he was making quite a lot of -money, but he did not say how he made it. I was not surprised at this -omission, for I simply thought that he had really become an artist, and -did not mention his work because he took it for granted that nobody at -home would understand it. But I longed to know what he really was—a -painter, a sculptor, or a poet. The last thought made me blush with -embarrassment and pride. Yes, a poet—that was very likely, since I was -writing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> poems too; but then, of course, my poems would never be as -good as his!</p> - -<p>The address given in his letter was the name of a café. During the time -that I had still to spend at home I thought of my brother, and at last -I had such a very bold and daring idea that I was surprised at my own -courage. I would go and visit him. On my way to Buda-Pesth I had to -pass Vienna, and I determined to break my journey there in order to -look him up. I told my mother about it before leaving home the next -day, and she thought that he might certainly be very pleased to see me.</p> - -<p>I had put on my very best dress for the journey. It was made out of a -cheap blue woollen material. To match this dress I had bought a light -blue straw hat that had cost two shillings, and I felt convinced that -I looked exceptionally smart. My parents went to see me off, and to -make it easier for all of us I kept on talking about the thirty-five -shillings every month, and about the miraculous things one could do -with them. We arrived at the station early, and paced up and down -the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>platform. When the train at last came steaming in, I suppressed -my tears as bravely as I could, took my seat by the window of the -compartment, and nodded to my people with a smile on my face. A few -minutes later the horn was sounded to signal the departure; my father -waved his hat to me, my mother wiped her eyes, and I looked quickly -away from the window with a sob in my throat that could no longer be -suppressed.</p> - -<p>The journey to Vienna lasted four hours, during which time I thought -much of my brother. I felt absolutely certain that I had gained a -great deal during the last two years, and pictured to myself his joy -and surprise when he heard that I had also a little knowledge of the -English language. When I had travelled about half the journey it -occurred to me to write down a few of my poems, and to ask his opinion -about them. I found some white paper in my bag, and started at once.</p> - -<p>In Vienna I showed my brother's address to a policeman, and begged -him to direct me. A little later I walked up and down in front of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> a -café, carrying my trunk in my hands. So far I had not encountered any -difficulties, but now I was not quite sure how to proceed. It is true -that the most simple thing to do would have been to enter the café, but -I did not dare to do so because of all the smartly-dressed people who -sat round the gilded tables. Perhaps, I said to myself, he will come -out, or, should he be away from home, go in, and then there might be a -chance for me to speak to him. However, after a whole hour had passed, -and my little trunk had become heavy in my hands, I stepped quite -close to one of the tall windows, and looked boldly at the fashionable -crowd, hoping to see him seated at one of the gilded tables. But the -faces were all strange to me, and making a last desperate appeal to -my courage, I had just decided to go in, when I saw a waiter whose -gait and carriage seemed familiar to me. He was standing with his -back against the window and I could not see his face, but I had the -impression that I had met him somewhere before. I stared at him, and -had almost forgotten why I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> there when a guest seated near the -window tapped the table with his spoon, and the waiter, who had aroused -my interest, immediately turned round and hurried towards him. I was so -surprised that I nearly dropped my trunk. The waiter was my brother. -Without hesitating another minute I went in. He caught sight of me -directly, and looking round him carefully in order to ascertain whether -he was watched or not, told me in a low voice to leave the café at -once, and to wait for him at the corner of the street, where he would -join me in half an hour. I did as he told me, but while I stood at the -corner waiting for him I could hardly get over my surprise. The whole -thing seemed to be a dream. I doubted whether I had really seen my -brother, and whether it was true that he was only a waiter and not an -artist, as I had firmly believed him to be. When the half-hour was over -a young man dressed in the height of fashion came up to me. I felt a -new surprise; the smart young man was my brother. I thought that he had -his day off, and admired the cut and colour of his suit. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Do you get tipped so well?" I, pursuing my own thoughts, asked him -after we had shaken hands.</p> - -<p>"Incredible!" he cried scornfully. "How can you be so utterly tactless -as to remind me in such a manner of the miserable profession I am in?"</p> - -<p>"Why do you call it a miserable profession?"</p> - -<p>"Why do I call it a miserable profession?" he repeated very angrily. -"Do you really think that I find a great pleasure in hobbling round -fellows who are not fit to hold a candle to me?"</p> - -<p>"I thought," I remarked, after a little silence, "that you had become -an artist."</p> - -<p>He laughed so terribly that all the passers-by stopped and looked at us.</p> - -<p>"An artist, indeed! That is more than I have ever expected from you. Do -you believe that artists drop from heaven during the night?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no," I replied hurriedly, in order to appease his temper; "I quite -know that it takes many years sometimes before they make a name for -themselves." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Then, if you know it, why do you demand that I should be an artist, -when there was never the slightest chance for me to educate myself?"</p> - -<p>"No, of course not. What I thought was that by now you might have found -out which of your capacities is the most eminent."</p> - -<p>"Oh," he answered, with an air of absolute ease and conviction, "there -can be little doubt as to the nature of my abilities. It is quite -certain that I should have made an excellent painter if I had ever -had the chance to learn the different ways of mixing the colours and -using the brush; it is also quite certain that I should have become a -great composer if I had been able to study music; and it is also beyond -all doubt that I should be a pioneer in the field of literature if my -profession permitted the depth of thought and feeling that is necessary -to write in grand style."</p> - -<p>I thought of my own poems, and could not understand him.</p> - -<p>"Why can't you feel and think exactly as other people do?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Lord!" he cried, and laughed again as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> terribly as before, "how can -you imagine such a thing? To be locked in between four walls, to -have to carry trays, and to bow and scrape all day long! Can't you -understand that by leading such a miserable life as mine, the soul -degenerates, the brain decays, and the whole being goes down to the -level of a working animal?"</p> - -<p>He had perfectly convinced me now, and although I said nothing he must -have felt his victory. His face grew calm, and pointing at my trunk, he -said:</p> - -<p>"Then you have at last grasped what I meant at our parting, and have -freed yourself from the narrow ways of country life and are willing to -look out for a situation here?"</p> - -<p>I told him quickly what I was about to do.</p> - -<p>"That beats everything," he said, when I had finished. "Have you gone -mad?"</p> - -<p>"Why should I have gone mad? Didn't you tell me yourself that I must -try to get on?"</p> - -<p>"Are you really so silly that you do not understand that you have no -right whatever to go in for such a situation as you have described to -me?" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Are you really ignorant of the fact," he continued, without paying -any attention to my question, "that people like that do not need a -servant, but a ladylike person, somebody who knows how to behave, and -possesses good manners, and can teach them to the children in her -charge? Furthermore, do you not know that you have not a grain of what -is called 'polish'?"</p> - -<p>I gave a little sob, and after hearing that he continued quickly: -"That is, of course, not your fault. Your intercourse with nothing -but country-folk cannot have taught you witty, amiable, and smart -behaviour; cannot have given you that indefinable something which makes -all the difference between an educated and an uneducated person; cannot -have imparted that knowledge to you, without which one is nothing, a -nobody, a mere cipher?"</p> - -<p>I believed every word of it and cried softly.</p> - -<p>"What am I to do?" I asked at last.</p> - -<p>"If I were in your place I should not travel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> down to Buda-Pesth, but -stay here. I will use whatever influence I have with my friends, and -try to find you a situation. Perhaps you could get a post as cashier -somewhere in a café."</p> - -<p>"No," I said, controlling my tears all in a moment, "I won't do that."</p> - -<p>"Why not? They generally make a lot of money, and a good match at the -end."</p> - -<p>"No," I said again, and shook my head decisively, "I would rather go to -Buda-Pesth."</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders indifferently.</p> - -<p>"He that will not be counselled cannot be helped. What train do you go -by?"</p> - -<p>"By the evening train at eight o'clock."</p> - -<p>"I am sorry to say that I can't see you off then. I have got a -<i>rendezvous</i> at eight o'clock."</p> - -<p>"A randewau?"</p> - -<p>"A <i>rendezvous</i>," he corrected. "There you are again; you know nothing."</p> - -<p>After that statement he pulled out his pocket-book and began to write -down something. When he had finished, he tore off the leaf and handed -it to me.</p> - -<p>"There, I have put down for you the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> important of adopted words, -which you ought to know because all smart people express themselves -nowadays only in adopted words. Good luck and a pleasant journey to -you." He held out his hand, which I took mechanically, and when I -looked up he had gone.</p> - -<p>I inquired for the station, and went the way indicated by a friendly -policeman. After I had taken my ticket I got into the train which was -standing by the platform, and by the dim light of the compartment I -tried to decipher the slip of paper that my brother had given to me. It -ran as follows:</p> - -<table summary="important adopted words"> - <tr> - <td class="left">Rendezvous</td> - <td class="left">Mélange</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Engagement</td> - <td class="left">Carrière</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Bureau or Comptoir </td> - <td class="left">Rouge</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Pardon</td> - <td class="left">Noir</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Toilette</td> - <td class="left">Milieu</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Banquet</td> - <td class="left">Manicure</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>After I had finished reading the paper I folded it up very carefully -and put it into my pocket. At the same time the train began to move and -started slowly onwards.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter X</h2> - -<p>Mr. Sandor, the owner of the registry-office in Buda-Pesth, had told -me in his last letter that he was going to meet me at the station, and -asked me to carry a handkerchief in my hand. I had passed a perfectly -sleepless night, and when we arrived in Buda-Pesth in the morning I -felt quite stiff, and got out from the compartment rather clumsily, -with my brown canvas trunk in one hand, and a handkerchief in the -other. I looked up and down the platform, and soon observed an elderly -gentleman who hurried up to me.</p> - -<p>"Have you come from Langenau?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, and would have given a world to know what he thought of -me.</p> - -<p>"Do you want a taxi?" he asked, throwing a quick glance at my trunk. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<p>All the money I possessed did not amount to more than sixpence, and I -shook my head violently at his question.</p> - -<p>"No, no; I would rather walk."</p> - -<p>"Just as you like."</p> - -<p>A few minutes later he asked me whether he might be permitted to carry -my trunk, but again I shook my head. After rather a long way he stopped -at one of the tall, beautiful houses, and I thought it was the house of -the family who had engaged me.</p> - -<p>"Are we there?" I asked, with my heart beating to my very throat.</p> - -<p>"No," he answered smilingly; "here is my own lodging. I have taken you -here first so that you can make yourself a little more tidy before you -are presented to your new mistress. My wife will certainly be pleased -to help you."</p> - -<p>He had opened a door and we entered a pretty-looking room. A lady came -in. She nodded at me very pleasantly, and Mr. Sandor said something to -her in the Hungarian language, which of course I did not understand. -After that he turned again to me: "I leave you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> with my wife now; as -soon as you are ready I shall be ready too."</p> - -<p>Not until the door had closed behind him, did I understand the -ridiculous position I was in. He expected me to change my clothes, -never suspecting that they were my best.</p> - -<p>"Don't be shy," the lady said; "do just as if you were at home."</p> - -<p>But even if I had been really at home, I could not have done much more. -I stammered that I did not want to change my dress, but should like to -have a clothes-brush, if there was one handy.</p> - -<p>"Of course," Mrs. Sandor replied, "here is one;" and with a smile she -handed to me the desired brush. I used it with clumsy haste and gave it -back.</p> - -<p>"Is that really everything?" she asked me in the same pleasant way as -before.</p> - -<p>"Yes, everything."</p> - -<p>After that she called her husband in.</p> - -<p>"Ready then?"</p> - -<p>"Quite," I replied, and stooping down to lift up my trunk, I said -"Good-day" to Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> Sandor, and followed her husband out into the -street.</p> - -<p>We did not go far on this occasion. He stopped at the corner of the -road and told me to follow him into the tram-car, a command which I -found great difficulty in obeying. However, I got in at last, and Mr. -Sandor sat down beside me.</p> - -<p>"I dare say," he commenced after a little while, "my letters were quite -clear to you, and that you are in no doubt as to your future duties. -With regard to your mistress, I do not think that there can be found a -more kind and gentle creature, and I am sure that you will feel very -comfortable in her house. As far as the three boys are concerned, you -will have to find out for yourself the best way to get on with them, -and I hope that you will remain there for a long time."</p> - -<p>He kept on talking in this strain, and in my heart of hearts I wondered -whether I really looked so silly and common a girl as my brother -had thought me. The house to which Mr. Sandor took me was a very -fine-looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> building. There was a broad marble staircase, covered -with a costly carpet, which was kept in its place by rods of shining -brass. A smart-looking parlour-maid led the way into a roomy hall, -bidding us to wait. I put my trunk on the floor, and with my heart -beating fast sat down on the edge of a chair. Mr. Sandor seated himself -too, but his heart did not seem to beat any faster. We had to wait for -rather a long time, and I was almost wishing that we might be left -there to wait for ever. But in the very midst of that thought fell the -mellowed sound of footsteps, and a lady entered. I felt so embarrassed -that I could not speak, and stood up terribly ashamed. But she never -looked at me. She spoke to Mr. Sandor in Hungarian, and I grew doubtful -whether she knew that there was anyone else in the room. All at once -she turned her head and looked at me with searching eyes.</p> - -<p>"Are you quite sure that you will like to stay in Buda-Pesth?" she -asked me. I did not quite know what she meant and only bowed my head in -silence. "I am afraid that you might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> grow home-sick, and I should so -hate to change again."</p> - -<p>"No," I said; "I am sure I shall like it very much."</p> - -<p>Mr. Sandor then said "Good-morning" to the lady, and as he shook hands -with me he begged me not to forget what he had told me. After he had -gone, the lady bade me follow her and led the way into a room that was -furnished completely in white. A table stood in the centre and around -it three boys, whom I guessed to be my charges, were sitting. They got -up as we entered and looked rather shyly at me.</p> - -<p>"Your new governess," the lady said to the children. "Won't you say -'Good-morning' to her?"</p> - -<p>Once alone with the children, my shyness left me. I shook hands with -them and asked a few simple questions which they answered in broken -German. After I had taken off my things, I busied myself at once in -amusing the children, tired though I was. I built houses of paper -on the table, and did various little things to help me to gain some -courage. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> - -<p>After a few days I grew more reassured, and dropped my shyness even -towards the mistress. I could see that she was satisfied with me, and -since the children also were very fond of me, I no longer felt afraid -of being sent away.</p> - -<p>I had plenty to do. To take the children to school and to fetch them -back again. Also to take them for walks when the weather was fine -enough. The darning and sewing I did when they lay asleep.</p> - -<p>Apart from a burning home-sickness that had taken hold of me and -tortured me especially in the evenings I felt quite happy there, and no -doubt believed that I had found at last what I had been longing for all -my life. There was one thing, however, that darkened the clear horizon -of my days: I had not a single decent dress to wear. It would hardly -have troubled me, but I knew that my mistress wanted me to be dressed -smartly. She had made little remarks sometimes, which, although never -addressed directly to me, gave me to understand that she was ashamed -for her friends—whose governesses looked so smart that I had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>mistaken -them for mistresses at the beginning—to see me.</p> - -<p>One day my mistress came into the nursery, and, looking around somewhat -discontentedly, said:</p> - -<p>"The children have been invited to tea, but who shall accompany them?"</p> - -<p>I looked at her in surprise.</p> - -<p>"Why, I, of course."</p> - -<p>"Impossible; you can't go there in that blue dress of yours."</p> - -<p>I remembered my brother and what he had told me, and started to fret -again about being sent away. I had not been there for a whole month, -and had not yet received my wages. But my mind was made up that I would -buy a dress as soon as I had my money, and I had already looked in all -the shop-windows in order to choose one. There were several dresses -that I should have liked to buy, but on looking at the price I was so -horrified that I avoided the shop-windows for days afterwards.</p> - -<p>My shoes were wearing out too, and when the thirty-five shillings at -last fell due, there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> were so many great and little things needed that -the wonderful thirty-five shillings melted down to a few small coppers -before I had been able to think of buying a new dress.</p> - -<p>One evening, when I was busily putting the children to bed, the master -came into the nursery and, after having exchanged a few words with -each of the boys, stepped over to where I was standing and touching my -blouse he said:</p> - -<p>"Don't you feel cold in it?"</p> - -<p>It was a very simple remark, and quite justified too, because it was -cold and the blouse was thin, but the look that he threw at me reminded -me of coarse and ugly words I had often heard before.</p> - -<p>I said that I did not feel cold, and when he reached out his hand again -I stepped back quickly.</p> - -<p>He came in earlier from that day onwards, and spent much time in the -nursery. He talked chiefly with the children, but all the while his -eyes wandered over me, and I felt that each look he gave me was like -a new offense. One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> afternoon when my mistress was out, the children -at school, and I was sitting in the nursery busy over some mending, -the door opened and the master came in. It was not his wont to leave -his office during the daytime, and bowing my head a little I looked -at him with some surprise. He closed the door very carefully and -leaned against the table. I had taken up my work again, but my fingers -trembled. He did not speak, and the silence became unbearable to me.</p> - -<p>"Why," he said at last, "why don't you look at me?"</p> - -<p>"Because the children need the things," I replied, bending my face -still closer over my darning.</p> - -<p>"Quite so; but if I want to speak to you, you ought to have a little -time."</p> - -<p>I thought that I had been rude, perhaps, since after all he was the -master, so I got up from the chair and looked at him submissively.</p> - -<p>"You know," he said very slowly and with a peculiar inflection in his -voice—"you know that I mean to be kind to you, that your welfare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> -interests me, and that I would not mind a little sacrifice on my part -if you would only appreciate it."</p> - -<p>I opened my mouth to make some clumsy reply, but with his hand he waved -to me to be silent, and continued:</p> - -<p>"You must know yourself that you are in somewhat pressed circumstances, -and I am quite willing to give you a large advance. There is, of -course, no need that you should mention that to my wife...." And while -he finished the last sentence he produced a small bundle of bank-notes -and put it on the table.</p> - -<p>At that I lost my head and flew into a terrible rage.</p> - -<p>"Take that money away," I shouted, "or I will tear it up!" and because -he did not take it away at once, I flung it at his feet. He stooped -to pick it up, but his eyes as he turned them to me were shining with -anger.</p> - -<p>"I am going to tell my wife at once," he said, "to get a lady and no -servant-girl for my children."</p> - -<p>After that he went. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was determined to leave the house immediately, and could scarcely -wait for the evening when the mistress would come in. But before she -came in I received a letter from home that contained most pitiable -news about the financial side of their circumstances. "Could not I -send a little money, just to keep the little ones from starving?" -was their humble yet urgent request. I had received my salary a few -days ago and not spent it yet. I took every penny of it and hurried -to a post-office. After the receipt was handed to me I felt somewhat -relieved, and having hidden it in my pocket very carefully I hastened -home.</p> - -<p>It was getting late and I started to put the children to bed, inwardly -troubled and disturbed because it had occurred to me that I had no -money and could not very well leave my place before another month. I -would not think of looking out for another situation in Buda-Pesth -itself. I had suffered so much from humiliations and home-sickness that -I hated the very sight of the houses and streets. I remembered the -threat of my master, but it left me cold. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> they were really going -to send me away it was quite a different thing from casting away the -shelter above my head.</p> - -<p>My mistress returned with her husband at about eight in the evening. -She came into the nursery with her hat and veil on and asked whether -the boys had been good. I answered in the affirmative, whereupon she -left again. I used to take my supper in the nursery. The dining-room -was not far away, and I could hear the clicking of the forks and knives -quite plainly. That evening I listened to every sound, anxious to know -whether they spoke about me. But they never mentioned my name. My -mistress laughed several times, and told her husband about something -in her highly-pitched voice. She always talked loudly, and I was -constantly afraid that she might wake the children when they lay asleep.</p> - -<p>The next morning my mistress treated me quite in the usual manner, and -I felt certain that her husband had said nothing against me. After I -had taken the children to school I tidied the nursery. When I was about -to do the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> beds the door opened and the cook came in with a pair -of boots in her hands. I had picked up a little Hungarian by now, and -could make myself understood quite well. The boots were a pair of mine -which I had taken to be repaired a few days before. She told me that -the shoemaker was waiting in the kitchen, and named the price that was -owing for the mending. With a sudden terror I remembered that I had -sent away all my money, and had not a penny left to pay for the shoes. -After thinking for a few moments I told her to give him back the shoes.</p> - -<p>"But," she insisted, looking down at my feet which were in shoes that -certainly were not new, "don't you want them?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes; but what am I to do? If the lady were in I could ask her to -advance me a little money."</p> - -<p>"What nonsense!" she replied. "It is such a trifle I will let you have -the money with pleasure."</p> - -<p>I wanted the shoes badly, and felt sincerely grateful for her offer. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Thank you so much," I said. "You shall have the money back by -to-night."</p> - -<p>"That is not at all necessary. She does not like to advance us money. I -can wait until you get your wages."</p> - -<p>When the lady had returned I did not ask her for money as I had -intended to do. In addition to the remark that the cook had made about -it, I had another reason. I was ashamed to confess that I had sent my -last wages home.</p> - -<p>During the next few weeks I did something that I have never ceased -to regret, and probably never shall. I borrowed more money from the -cook. I certainly never asked her for a large sum, but whenever I told -her that I was in need of twopence, she insisted on giving me ten -shillings, and I spent them as quickly as I received them. In that way -I owed her twenty-five shillings before half of the month was over. It -did not, however, really trouble me. Twenty-five shillings, I reckoned, -still left ten shillings to go home with. However, something happened -which altered my position completely. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<p>The lady was going to give an evening entertainment, and had invited -about forty people. All sorts of preparations went on all day long, -and the evening promised to be a success. As a matter of course, I -was excluded from the proud assembly in the drawing-room, and stayed -in the nursery as usual. I was sitting on a low chair reading a book, -when I suddenly heard very soft footsteps, and looking up I saw the -master. Without saying a single word he bent over my chair and, taking -my head tightly into both of his hands, he kissed me. After that he -released me, and went out as softly and hurriedly as he had come in. -My book dropped, giving a low, dull sound as it fell on the carpet, -and I sat motionless for a while. Trembling in every limb, I got up at -last, and stepping to my little washstand took a brush, and scrubbed -my face until the skin was rubbed through and the blood showed. Having -done that, I threw myself dressed as I was on my bed, and remained -there till long after midnight. What I had felt during those hours was -no hatred, no anger, but a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> great inexpressible grief. I awoke in the -morning like one stunned, and did my work mechanically. When I took -the children to school I paid little heed to their talk, but tormented -my brain to find out how to leave that house at once. I remembered the -twenty-five shillings which I owed the cook, and the horrible fact that -my wages were not due for a fortnight. If I was going to leave right -away the money due to me would not even have covered my debt. Where -was I to get the money from that I needed to travel home with? When I -thought of my return to my parents a hot wave of shame swept over me. -I had dreamed of it often and often—how I would come home some day -with many beautiful dresses and costly finery; but as things had now -turned out I was no better off than I was when I had left home. After -a few minutes' thought, however, I felt less concerned about that, and -finally grew utterly indifferent as to my appearance. All I desired -was to have enough money to enable me to pay the cook and to travel -to Vienna. Once there, perhaps my brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> might help me to go home. -Yet, much as I reckoned and much as I thought, there was left no other -way out except to earn the money wanted—that is to say, to stay for -another fortnight at that hated place.</p> - -<p>Sick at heart, but calm and composed, I said "Good-morning" to my -mistress an hour later. She yawned as she returned my salute, and told -me how much she had enjoyed the evening, but that she was feeling tired -to-day.</p> - -<p>Once during the morning I went into the kitchen to fill a jug with -water. The cook and the parlourmaid stood together and whispered to -each other. When they saw me they stopped abruptly, and gave me a -disdainful look. They had never looked at me like that, and I grew -uneasy. After I had filled the jug I went back into my nursery, but the -uncomfortable feeling that was roused within me would not be quelled.</p> - -<p>When I returned with the children from school that day, the cook -informed me that her ladyship wished to see me at once. I wanted to -take off the children's coats first, but while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> I was wrestling with -the arm of the youngest she told me to go at once.</p> - -<p>With mingled feelings of surprise and anger I obeyed. The door leading -to my mistress's room was ajar, and I entered without knocking. As if -she had been waiting for me, my mistress stood in the centre of the -room, fully erect, her dark eyes flashing at me angrily.</p> - -<p>"Must I be told by the servants," she shouted, without returning my -salute, "what a miserable creature I have taken into my house?" And -getting into a terrible rage, she yelled: "Out of my sight, and do not -poison the air here more than you have done already. I give you ten -minutes, after that I will throw you down the stairs if you have not -disappeared."</p> - -<p>I said nothing and asked nothing. I went back into the nursery and -packed up the few things that belonged to me. The children were puzzled -and picked up what had dropped from my trembling hands. When I had -almost finished I stopped and listened. Someone had set up a terrible -noise of crying and lamenting in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> kitchen, and a few seconds later -the cook rushed in.</p> - -<p>"My money!" she screamed; "how am I to get my money now?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure I don't know," I replied; whereupon she began to howl like a -hungry beast, and to run like a madwoman up and down the room. But all -at once she grew as quiet as a mouse, and looking up from my trunk I -saw my mistress in the room.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" she asked, without giving me a single look.</p> - -<p>The cook explained, and began to howl anew. When she had finished, the -lady turned towards me.</p> - -<p>"You wretch!" she said; "you miserable wretch! And I have suffered you -to sit at my table and breathe the same air with my children for nine -months, you dirty, dirty thing! You——"; and then she said something -which I do not care to repeat.</p> - -<p>I could feel the blood leave my cheeks when I heard the last words, but -I set my teeth and did not speak. Without paying any further<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> attention -to either the lady or the cook I continued to pack my trunk, and when I -had finished I went towards the door. But the lady stopped me.</p> - -<p>"The trunk you leave here," she thundered, "and it is to remain until -you have paid the cook."</p> - -<p>"I have a claim on a fortnight's money," I said; "that she may have, -and I will send her the rest as soon as I get a situation."</p> - -<p>They began to consider the matter, and I heard the lady say that she -would much rather give me the money, in order to enable me to travel -home, since she hated to know that I was in Buda-Pesth. The only thing -to do was to keep my trunk back. After that talk she turned to me, and -threw seventeen shillings on the table.</p> - -<p>"There," she said, in a terrible voice, "out with you, but the trunk is -to remain here."</p> - -<p>I took the money and looked round for the children, but they had left -the room. In the kitchen I met the parlourmaid, who had listened the -whole time. She opened the front<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> door for me, and mockingly bowed me -out. When I had reached the street I ran as fast as I could to the -station, inquired for the next train to Vienna, and, two hours later, -sat in one of its compartments. Pressing myself hard into a corner, -I looked round now and again very shyly and very carefully, because -I thought that I had heard someone call: "You wretch! you miserable -wretch! You dirty, dirty thing! You——."</p> - -<p>I trembled all over with excitement, and closed my eyes; but although -utterly sad at heart, I shed no tears that night. We reached Vienna -the next morning, and for a few moments I thought of calling upon my -brother. But I gave up the idea. Would he not only scorn and despise -me? So I travelled on to Langenau. It was dark when the train steamed -into the well-known little station, and I hastened home. The children -were all fast asleep, but my parents were still up. Both of them were -startled to see me, and besieged me with anxious questions. I said that -the whole family with whom I had been had died. Later on my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> father -also went to bed, and I was alone with my mother.</p> - -<p>"Where is your trunk?" she asked me.</p> - -<p>I replied that it was going to be sent on to me.</p> - -<p>There was a lengthy pause, during which my mother stared at me -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"I believe you have got no luck," she said at last.</p> - -<p>"I am sure I haven't," I said, watching a great black spider that crept -slowly along the wooden floor.</p> - -<p>I stayed at home now, and as I did not care to meet any of my old -acquaintances I never left the house. There was hardly anybody who knew -that I had come back. It is true that I longed to see Miss Risa de -Vall, but since I had no decent clothes in which to visit her I would -not write to her. My mother kept on asking when my trunk would come, -and I answered always, "I expect to-morrow."</p> - -<p>To my great surprise the trunk really arrived about three weeks after. -As a matter of course I was very pleased to have my things back, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -to what kind circumstances I owed it I never knew. The very first -thing I wanted to do now was to obtain a situation. The circumstances -of my parents were no better than their letters had led me to expect. -The rent especially proved to be a burning and everlasting question. -But where was I to take a situation again? At Langenau?—I would not -hear of it. At Krems?—that did not suit me either. I decided to write -to my brother, and to ask him to find something suitable for me. The -letter, however, was never answered, and things grew no better. I -earned nothing, and consequently could buy nothing. A new pair of boots -was once more a tempting suggestion. Not wishing to lose more time, I -had decided to look out for a situation at Krems after all, when the -postman called one day and delivered a letter for me. I recognized at -once the Hungarian stamp, showing the sloping cross and above it the -flying eagle.</p> - -<p>But the handwriting did not seem familiar to me, and fearing that I -was going to be reminded of my debt to the cook, I opened the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> letter -with some alarm. After I had read it I did not quite know what to -think of it. It was written by Mr. Sandor; mentioning nothing about my -last place he told me of a situation which he had vacant, and which he -thought would suit me excellently. There were only two children—a boy -and a girl, aged between three and five years. The wages were the same. -My parents tried hard to persuade me to accept the offer at once, but -I had my own thoughts about it and could not make up my mind. Another -letter, coming from the same place, was handed to me the next day. Mr. -Sandor wrote that as the matter was very urgent, would I be good enough -to let him know my decision by return of post.</p> - -<p>I put all my things together now, and examined them thoroughly. If -that blouse, I thought, received a new pair of sleeves it might do -quite well at home; and if I sewed a new belt on that skirt, it would -not look so bad. I put aside piece after piece, and decided to start -with the mending at once; but before I sat down to take up the needle, -I wrote to Mr. Sandor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> that I should certainly feel very pleased to -obtain the situation in question.</p> - -<p>On the day before my departure I could not stay indoors, but went out. -It was evening, and under cover of the growing darkness I visited all -the places that I knew so well and loved so dearly. I passed the house -which we had inhabited after our very first removal, and looked in at -the open gate. The brooklet there flowed through the yard as it had -done at the time when I was a little child; but in the corner, where my -flowers had closed and opened themselves so generously for me, there -stood a kennel, and a large bushy dog darted at me distrustfully. Very -sadly I moved on. The church square had not altered. The church stood -in its centre, dark and quiet as of old, and opposite to it there -loomed up the house of my former friend Leopoldine. All the windows -were illuminated, and the whole building suggested comfort and ease. I -walked on again down to the very end of the street, leaving behind me -all the well-known cottages, together with the dyer's house, until I -reached the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>graveyard. I used to be afraid of that place when I was a -child, and always avoided it as much as I could, but to-day my heart -was filled with such sadness that all other feelings were overcome by -it.</p> - -<p>Leaning myself against the low grey wall, my thoughts went on freely. -What had life been to me so far? Scorned and avoided ever since I was -a child, with nothing for my own but the quiet thoughts and the secret -dreams. How different this might have been if "he" had come, my prince -out of the fairyland! But he had failed me too.</p> - -<p>And as I stood there staring into the darkness above and beyond the -graves, I saw a vision—a circle of flames, growing into enormous size, -embracing all the world except myself, leaving me outside and alone.</p> - -<p>My parents went to see me off again the next day. On this occasion, -however, I did not speak, and walked to the station almost reluctantly. -When I was seated in the train I neither smiled nor cried, being -utterly indifferent. I did not know that fate was ready for me.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter XI</h2> - -<p>Mr. Sandor did not come to meet me this time. He told me in his letter -that I would find my way easily now that I knew Buda-Pesth, and, -furthermore, the house of the family who had engaged me was situated -close to the station. I found it to be exactly as he said; after having -crossed the street I reached my destination.</p> - -<p>I had grown very indifferent of late, and mounted the broad staircase -without the slightest trace of my usual embarrassment and fear.</p> - -<p>After I had pressed the button at the door, a maid appeared and asked -me whether I was the new hair-dresser. I thought this was owing to my -shabby dress, my shabby gloves, and my shoes; so assuming an air of -great dignity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> I corrected her mistake. She led the way into the hall, -and told me to wait. After a little time she came again and ordered me -into another room. It had green curtains on the windows, and a green -table-cover spread over the table. I expect it was the sight of the -green table-cover that reminded me of my mother's former drawing-room. -In order to make a good impression, I had held myself very straight and -upright on entering the room, but with my thoughts reverting to a time -far away, I forgot my purpose and my shoulders shrank a little, as is -their wont.</p> - -<p>"Are you the new governess?"</p> - -<p>A little confused, I took my eyes from the table-cover, nodded "yes" to -the question, and then looked directly at the gentleman in front of me.</p> - -<p>"You said in your letter that you were twenty-one years of age?"</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, I am twenty-one."</p> - -<p>"You don't look it."</p> - -<p>I told him it was not my fault, and then we smiled at each other. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<p>He asked me a few other questions, and soon afterwards a tall handsome -woman entered. She was my mistress, and took me into the nursery. It -was early, and the children were not yet dressed; but they looked so -sweet in their nightgowns that I liked them at once.</p> - -<p>My life again became the same as it had been at my other situation. -I occupied myself entirely with the children, played with them, took -them out for walks, and later on to school. Our usual walk was along -the wide and stately Danube, which represented a magnificent picture -with the King's palace and other grand buildings upon its banks. If the -weather was not fine, I used to send the children out on the balcony -that ran all round the square courtyard at the same height as our -apartments. On account of its smoothness it was a wonderful place for -mechanical toys, such as engines, motor-cars, and so on.</p> - -<p>One afternoon I had sent the children out there again, and promised -to join them soon. When, however, I followed, the children had -disappeared. I called their names aloud,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> whereupon they responded at -once, but still I did not know where they were.</p> - -<p>"Where are you?"</p> - -<p>"Here," they repeated, and while I still stood and listened, a door -that had not so far interested me opened, and my little girl put out -her sweet dark head.</p> - -<p>"Here we are!" she said once more; "do come in."</p> - -<p>I did not know the people who lived there, but thinking that they were -friends of the family I went in.</p> - -<p>The room into which the little one had taken me was occupied by a -gentleman about thirty years old, who was amusing the children with -stamps and pictures. I thought he was alone at home. He saluted me in -fluent German, and with more politeness than anyone had ever shown to -me.</p> - -<p>I controlled my embarrassment, and took the seat he offered me. The -children had entered into an argument as to the possible value of -foreign stamps, and the owner of the room turned to me in conversation. -At first he only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> spoke commonplaces with a faint touch of irony in -his voice, but he grew grave and interested after I had made a few -remarks. Then we began a discussion, but how we started upon it I could -never remember. Smoking a cigar and leaning back in his chair with easy -elegance, he asked:</p> - -<p>"Intoxication or regret—which is the greater of the two?... Is it -worth the while?..."</p> - -<p>I understood only half of what he meant, and answered that I did not -know.</p> - -<p>Then I told him about my poems, and he listened and smiled, an odd -ironical smile that also I could not understand. At last when I -departed with the children he asked me what books I was reading.</p> - -<p>"None at all," I replied, whereupon he looked surprised.</p> - -<p>"May I get you some from the library?"</p> - -<p>I thought it was very kind of him, and said that I should be pleased.</p> - -<p>A few days later the porter handed me a parcel containing books, and a -slip of paper.</p> - -<p>"I have chosen the books in a great hurry,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> he had written, "but trust -that you will like them."</p> - -<p>As soon as I could find time I opened one of the books. It was a volume -of novels by Jacobsen, and one of them was called "Morgan."</p> - -<p>I read it all through.... A man—a dreamer, who loves madly a girl -to-day and has forgotten her by to-morrow; and round that man there -moved pictures full of glowing colour and sparkling light. I liked it, -but did not really understand it.</p> - -<p>"Have you read some of the books?" my new friend asked me as soon as we -met.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"That novel too about Morgan?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Did you like it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"One of the most beautiful passages is that in which he walks through -the waving corn-field with his young wife."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but I believe he must have been a horrible man."</p> - -<p>"Why that?" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - -<p>"So wilful, so restless, so faithless."</p> - -<p>He pulled his soft hat over his forehead, gave me a strange look and -smiled.</p> - -<p>We met almost every day, generally in the morning when I took the -children to school and he went to his office. We rode a little way -together in the tram-car, then I got out with the children and he -went on. During these few minutes we carried on jumpy conversations, -based upon an incident, an idea, or a poem of mine. We talked on -dispassionately as it seemed, until we stopped abruptly as if afraid -that we had said too much.</p> - -<p>By-and-by I began to think of him whether I saw him or not; his face, -his figure rose like a blazing question from the midst of the strange, -wistful dreams that I had dreamt all my life, and something that had -lain within me, dull and senseless like a trance, woke, wondered, and -trembled into joy.</p> - -<p>Once I did not see him for two whole days, and my heart grew so filled -with longing that I wrote a letter to him. Not that I wished to see him -or anything like it. No. What I put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> down on the paper were thoughts -that had fallen into my soul, rich, like the raindrops that fall down -into a field—visions of such rare, exquisite beauty, that I longed to -share them with someone.</p> - -<p>I was most anxious to see him next day, but did not meet him, nor the -next day, nor the next; on the fourth day, at last.... My first impulse -was to run and meet him, but it was arrested by a sweet bewilderment -that took hold of me whenever I knew him to be near. It seemed as if -he wished to hurry on without taking any notice of me, but then he -hesitated, stopped, and lifted his hat. I was struck by the strange -coolness of his behaviour, and my heart ached within me.</p> - -<p>"How is it," I asked him, "that we see so little of each other?"</p> - -<p>He drew a deep breath and looked away from me.</p> - -<p>"Because it would be very unwise to see more of each other."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>He did not answer at once. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Because," he said at last, "there are wolves in sheep's clothing."</p> - -<p>"I don't understand that."</p> - -<p>"Don't you?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"I want to caution you."</p> - -<p>"What of?"</p> - -<p>"Of a wolf that runs about in sheep's clothing and whom you trust."</p> - -<p>"Whom do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Myself."</p> - -<p>The meaning of his words dawned on me at last, but, filled with a -happy, deep-felt trust, I shook my head.</p> - -<p>"You are no wolf in sheep's clothing."</p> - -<p>He drew a deep breath again, just as he had done before, and looked -hard in front of him.</p> - -<p>"You are mistaken. I am a wolf—a heartless, terrible wolf; one that -would never hesitate a second to devour a sheep that comes his way -without a shepherd and a hound."</p> - -<p>I glanced at him, and it seemed to me that his face looked haggard and -worn. I grew very quiet and very sad. The whole world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> looked dark all -at once, and the joyous song that, like a glorious promise, had filled -my brain and soul ceased with a dissonance.</p> - -<p>But then a minute later it rose again, shy and soft, at first no more -than a quiver, but gaining force and power until it grew into a thrill -of notes so sweet and persuasive that I could and would not check them.</p> - -<p>True that there was something crying within me, but the thing that had -rejoiced before was rejoicing still.</p> - -<p>"Did you get my letter?" I asked him after a while.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and many thanks for it."</p> - -<p>"May I write to you again?"</p> - -<p>He hesitated.</p> - -<p>"May I?" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>It seemed to be wrung from him.</p> - -<p>"And you will write back?"</p> - -<p>He hesitated again, much longer than before.</p> - -<p>"I hardly think so; I mean to say sometimes, perhaps, but never very -much."</p> - -<p>"Only sometimes and never very much!" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes; and that only on one condition."</p> - -<p>"On what condition?"</p> - -<p>"That nobody shall know of our correspondence."</p> - -<p>"And why?"</p> - -<p>"Because it is best for you."</p> - -<p>"Why for me?"</p> - -<p>And before he could reply a great anger rose within me.</p> - -<p>"You are a coward!"</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"If it gives you pleasure to think that, I will certainly not prevent -you from doing so; an explanation, however, might be useful to you. -It is not on my account that I do not wish to make our correspondence -known, but solely for your sake. A single man is free to do as he -chooses, he can go and turn a girl's head and nobody will blame him; -but you must know that there are different ideas about the conduct of -women."</p> - -<p>"But I don't care."</p> - -<p>"Quite so, but others do care."</p> - -<p>"But I don't mind it." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But I do."</p> - -<p>"Then it is for your sake after all?"</p> - -<p>"No, for your sake."</p> - -<p>He stopped and looked at me with stern, decisive eyes. I felt so low -and mean that I was ashamed of myself. What did all of this mean? -There stood a man, and I pleaded and begged for permission to write -to him. And he would let me, graciously let me, if I was content with -his conditions. A wave of bitter anger swept over me. Would he dare -to speak like that to another girl? To the daughter of his superior -or of his friend? Or what else could it be but that he was ashamed -of me—ashamed of the shabby dress I wore and the situation I was -in? Quick as lightning a vision rose before me, a row of girls all -dressed in costly gowns ... and for the first time I felt envious.... -Was he not right after all? What was I? What were my people?... Poor, -wretchedly poor!</p> - -<p>"Leave me," I said, and the torture that I suffered leapt into my -throat; "I will not write to you." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You can't do that."</p> - -<p>My sadness turned into wrath.</p> - -<p>"Why can't I?"</p> - -<p>"Because you want me."</p> - -<p>His eyes had lost their stern expression, without, however, losing -their firm, decisive look, and from that look streamed forth a power -more irresistible than any I had ever felt. But I was very proud, very -strong, very free of will, and would not submit, so I turned my back -upon him.</p> - -<p>"I hate you!" I said, and went away.</p> - -<p>When it was late and dark and the children lay asleep, I sat at the -window and looked down the street where hundreds of lamps shed their -gloomy light, and countless people streamed gaily to and fro. They -looked all so different in appearance and manner, and yet so alike -because of the instinct of pleasure that governed them. Their eyes -flashed, their cheeks glowed. They all hurried towards the theatre that -was close by, and their haste and anticipation vibrated in the air like -an electric current. I felt it all and shuddered, and then thought that -I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> saw a monster of gigantic size with a malicious smile on its lips, -and a malicious light in its eyes, kicking onward and onward the coil -of carriage-horses and people, laughing madly all the while. To get rid -of that horrid picture I closed my eyes and thought of home. There the -children would be lying asleep. Two or three in each bed, so they would -lie ... and mother would be sitting at the table in a cotton-dress -that was mended and patched.... I could almost smell the oil of the -little lamp and see the red flame trembling behind the crooked screen. -And then I saw myself among the children, restless and discontented, -full of a vague longing for somebody to whom I could confide all the -wonderful thoughts and dreams that I constantly conceived, and to which -mother would have responded with a little tortured smile, and father -with a shake of his head, had they known, ... and suddenly I was once -more bound in the spell of those eyes that had looked at me so calmly -and firmly to-day.</p> - -<p>"Because you want me," I heard him say again; and the words that had -seemed so hard—almost <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>brutal—a few hours ago, had now such a soft, -quiet, reassuring touch that I stretched out my arms as if to cling to -them.</p> - -<p>I had written to him, enclosed my latest poems, and he had asked me in -a short note to arrange for a few minutes' quiet talk. I had never yet -met him without the children, and the thought of seeing him alone and -undisturbed made me tremble with a strange delight. On a very clumsy -pretext I asked for an hour off the next day, and arrived punctually. -His salute was very polite, his face very grave. "I have only a quarter -of an hour to spare," he said, "and must tell you at once what I -intended to tell you." His remark that he had no more than fifteen -minutes, whilst I had a whole hour at my disposal disappointed me, and -I hardly answered his opening remark. He, however, took no notice of -my anger and continued: "Many thanks for the letter as well as for the -poems, and it is on account of the poems that I wanted to talk to you. -You had the kindness to let me read some of your poems before, and I -was struck by the talent <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>they revealed to me, but your versification -is as bad as your thoughts and feelings are exquisite. There"—he took -my letter out of his pocket—"you may see for yourself what I mean."</p> - -<p>I looked perplexed at the letter in his hands, but could see nothing, -and asked him to make himself understood more clearly. At that request -he smiled—not, however, the malicious smile of old—and said:</p> - -<p>"The verses lack all shape."</p> - -<p>"Shape?" I asked, astonished and a little hurt. "What shape are they to -have?"</p> - -<p>"Proper shape; the whole versification is wrong. Look here."</p> - -<p>After that he began to read aloud and very slowly, making remarks in -between the lines—such as: "There is a foot short in that line; and -one foot too many in that one; in that other line the time goes too -quick, and here again it goes too slow; the proper metre of the whole -ought to be something like this." He read the poem over again, but put -in the missing feet by syllables of his own invention, and left out -what he thought too much. I had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -never in all my life heard anything like it, and listened to every word -most attentively. After the quarter of an hour and a few minutes more -had passed we parted, and I walked home filled with new ideas. As soon -as I could find time I examined more of my verses and discovered the -same unevenness in their construction.</p> - -<p>When I met my friend out on the balcony (I am not sure whether -accidentally or otherwise) a few days later, he handed me two books, a -large one and a small one. "This one here is a grammar of the German -language because—"and now he smiled a kind indulgent smile—"you can't -spell your own language yet ... and this is a book on the construction -of poems. It will tell you more clearly than I am able what you have to -do, and what you must not do in writing your poems."</p> - -<p>I thanked him very much for the books, but when I looked them through -in the evening, I thought the German grammar most tedious, and the book -on the "construction of verses" hopelessly unintelligible.</p> - -<p>"It is impossible," I said to myself, "to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> write in accordance with -these books; if I had to do it I simply could write no more." I put the -books away, and wrote my poems in the same style as before. A whole -week passed before I saw my friend again, and he asked me at once how I -liked the books. I was rather ashamed to tell the truth about them and -answered that they were all right.</p> - -<p>"Did you write anything?"</p> - -<p>I showed him my last poem. He read it very carefully and then returned -it.</p> - -<p>"The thoughts expressed in it are beautiful as they are always, and it -is such a pity that you don't study the two books a little more."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I can see it; if you had taken the slightest trouble with them -you could not very well have made such great mistakes."</p> - -<p>At first I felt ashamed, but then I grew sulky.</p> - -<p>"The books are both very silly," I said, "and I do not think that I -shall use them."</p> - -<p>"Then you mean to remain a nursery-maid all your life?"</p> - -<p>I dropped my eyes and was annoyed at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> way he spoke to me, but in -the evening I studied the books. The theory of poetry I treated with -special attention, and after I had acquainted myself a little more -closely with its many rules and ways, I found out soon enough what was -the matter with my poems. I kept on studying it most diligently, and a -few weeks afterwards I wrote a new poem, for which I got much credit -from my friend.</p> - -<p>"Let me congratulate you on your 'very first' poem," he said.</p> - -<p>His praise had made me boundlessly happy and proud. With terrible -certainty I had comprehended that I was socially far removed from him; -that I could never hold the balance against him; that I was a girl -so poor, so meaningless, whose dreams—nay, not even whose boldest -dreams—were permitted to soar so high. But it was different now. A -feeling of bewildering sweetness told me that this aristocratic man, -to my ideas like a foreign bird with glittering wings, had deigned to -rest himself in the quiet woodlands of my soul, ready to fly away again -as soon as my flowers had faded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> and my larks had gone away to die. -Realizing the last, I felt a bitter pang. No; that mystic stranger who -by a sweet whim of fate had, as it were, come to stay with me for a -while, must go away no more. No, never. All splendour would vanish, all -brightness would fade, and the heart would forget how to sing. All and -everything would go with him: that glorious expectation, never owned -and all unconscious, telling me softly, softly, a wondrous, wondrous -tale; that strange, delightful embarrassment, that at the sight of -him had often, often set my feet and heart a-tremble; those waves of -infinite tenderness, gushing up suddenly from depths unfathomable—all -and everything would go. Something was roused within me, uplifting -itself against that desolation, growing and growing until it towered -above all anxiety and fear—a new self-consciousness together with a -new strength. Thus I commenced to fight the battle that each woman is -called upon to fight once at least, and which is more formidable than -all the battles of war that have ever been fought by man.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter XII</h2> - -<p>There was, however, no outward manifestation, deep and passionate -though that struggle may have been. It is true that we met each other -almost every day, but nearly always in the company of the children, -and if it happened that we arranged to meet alone, we had never more -time to spare than perhaps half an hour. By this time his attitude -towards me had entirely changed. The touch of scorn and sarcasm that -had confused and irritated me at the beginning of our acquaintance -had turned into gravity and thoughtfulness. I on my part displayed -much pride and coolness, since his politeness and reserve made me -afraid to betray my feelings, which, after all, were not reciprocated. -What he really thought of me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> I never knew. He was always so kind, -so concerned, and yet was unmercifully stern and strict whenever my -obstinacy revolted against his will.</p> - -<p>One day I was with the children on the balcony, and my mistress had -also come out for a moment. I sat busy with some mending, when all at -once I felt somebody else was present. Without looking up I recognized -the voice that I knew so well, and my heart beat faster. I thought that -he would come and speak to me. He, however, did not do so, but spoke to -my mistress. At that the blood mounted to my cheeks. "The coward," I -said to myself; "he does not even dare to speak to me." I trembled with -shame and rage, and nothing on earth could have induced me to look up. -Their conversation was short and meaningless, and after a little while -he prepared to go. He departed with a polite phrase from my mistress, -and with a joke from the children; then I heard a door bang, and knew -that he had gone.</p> - -<p>I felt like crying with anger and sadness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> Could it be that such a -man was my friend? As soon as I had put the children to bed, I wrote a -note asking him to return all my poems and letters, since I wished to -discontinue our friendship, which I had only now found out had never -been real friendship. I thought he would do at once as I wished, and -was surprised not to hear from him. The days passed by, and after a -whole week had passed the porter at last handed me a note.</p> - -<p>"I should like to speak to you. Pray decide on time and place."</p> - -<p>At first I was determined to send no reply whatever, and kept silent -for two days; then I could stand it no longer, and wrote saying "when -and where."</p> - -<p>"What's the meaning of that?" he asked, producing my letter from -his pocket; whereupon I began bitterly to reproach him. He did not -interrupt me with a single syllable, and so I spoke on and on until I -could say no more. "You are a child," he said at last, looking at me -half sadly, half amused. His apparent indifference angered me anew. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Pray," I said with great dignity, "when will you return my letters?"</p> - -<p>His eyes blazed all of a sudden and his lips closed tightly.</p> - -<p>"Never!"</p> - -<p>"But they are my own letters."</p> - -<p>"You are mistaken. The letters belong to me."</p> - -<p>He had stopped in front of me, and his face wore the grave, decisive -look that I knew so well. All my anger melted, and with a little sob -I clung to him. He suffered it for a second only, then pulled himself -together, and looked at his watch.</p> - -<p>"It is time that you should go."</p> - -<p>He spoke as coolly and politely as ever, but the look he gave me was -a wondrous look, and when I went home, stunned as it were, my heart -pondered on a new revelation, half sweetness and half sorrow.</p> - -<p>Later on, I also made the acquaintance of his mother. She was such a -gentle and ladylike woman that I should have adored her even if she had -not been the mother of the man I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> loved. She spoke to me with great -kindness whenever I met her, and told me one day that she had come -across a lovely book, which she would be pleased to let me have if I -cared for it. A little timid, but all the more determined, I pressed -the button at her door next day. A smart-looking parlourmaid ushered me -into the drawing-room. There the arrangement of the furniture and other -things showed much taste and elegance, and I thought involuntarily of -our own poor lodging at home, of the one room, wherein they all ate, -slept, and wept together. The sound of footsteps made me forget that -doleful picture. My lady smiled at me, asked a few simple questions, -and soon we began to talk.</p> - -<p>"I am rather ashamed," she said, pulling open a drawer, and taking out -some pieces of paper, yellow from age, "but I can't help it. There are -lots of things dating even from my girlhood, and I cannot make up my -mind to throw them away."</p> - -<p>After that she showed me newspaper cuttings of poems, dried flowers, -and many other things,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> which she stroked softly while pointing out to -me their value and meaning. When at length I prepared to go, she handed -me the book which I had come for; it was a volume of poems by Mirza -Schaffy.</p> - -<p>That visit did not remain the only one. Many and many a time I sat with -her in the cosily black-furnished drawing-room, and when she gazed -at me with that singular, ambiguous look of hers, I often felt like -burying my head in the dark silk robe on her lap and confiding to her -all my sorrow and grief.</p> - -<p>One day I received a letter from home, telling me that they were unable -to find the money for the rent which fell due on January 1 (that was in -a few days), and that all their things would be put out in the street. -The letter worried me terribly; I had sent home small and large sums of -money during the two years I had been at my post, but just then I did -not possess any money worth mentioning. In my imagination I beheld my -parents, sisters, and brothers, shelterless, in a dirty, stormy street, -and so great was my despair that I cried all night. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the morning an idea occurred to me that at first I found horrible -and shameful. But it came again and again, grew stronger and stronger, -and when it was time to take the children to school I hoped most -devoutly to see my friend. Nor did I hope in vain.</p> - -<p>"I must speak to you," I said, as soon as I caught sight of him.</p> - -<p>He looked at me apprehensively.</p> - -<p>"I am at your disposal."</p> - -<p>"Not now," I answered, glancing at the children; "I must speak to you -alone. Can you spare time on Sunday?"</p> - -<p>"If there is anything the matter. Why not earlier?"</p> - -<p>I felt immensely relieved.</p> - -<p>"Then to-day?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Of course, whenever you like."</p> - -<p>After that we appointed the time and place, and parted. But scarcely -had he gone than I began to regret what I was about to do. The whole -thing seemed to me almost madness.</p> - -<p>What right had I to ask him for money? I felt so tortured, so -miserable, and when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> time of our appointment drew near, I decided -not to go. Nor did I. Instead, I read that fatal letter over and over -again. It was written by my father, and there was one passage that -ran: "Mother is worn out with crying and fretting, and is not feeling -well of late. What we are to do if we really have to move out into the -street, I do not know. They would never take us into the alms-house, -because we do not belong to Langenau at all."</p> - -<p>I put my face on the table and wept bitterly. All at once I decided -to do what I had meant to do, and looked at the clock. It was a whole -hour late for the meeting we had arranged, and I could not expect to -find him still waiting. Controlling my sorrows as well as I could, -I went about my duty. That evening I was alone, my mistress having -gone to the theatre, and after I had put the children to bed I grew -so terribly anxious again—chiefly about my mother—that I decided -to wait no longer. But what could I do? Surely he was not at home; -and even if he happened to be in, could I go and ask for him? Though -almost certain that it was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>perfectly useless to look for him, I went -out on the balcony and noticed, half-mad with delight, a light burning -in a little room situated one floor higher, where he used to develop -photographs, to mend watches, and so forth. I walked upstairs, hardly -conscious of what I was doing, and knocked at his door as softly as if -I did not wish to be heard. He had heard me, however, and called "Come -in," whereupon I pushed the door open and entered hesitatingly. Inside -the room I pressed myself hard against the wall, and could not speak. -He had laid aside his work at once, and looked at me with questioning -eyes.</p> - -<p>"Will you not speak?" he at length urged softly.</p> - -<p>After that I told him my little tale in great haste, though sobs -interrupted me. While telling him all, it occurred to me that after -knowing my people's history so well he might not wish to be my friend -any longer, and I gazed at him anxiously when I had finished. His face, -however, relieved my fears. His eyes wore the thoughtful, apprehensive -look that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> had noticed several times before, and his lips smiled the -kind, well-known smile.</p> - -<p>"How much do you want?"</p> - -<p>"Very, very much," I said blushingly.</p> - -<p>"How much?" he urged.</p> - -<p>"About a hundred shillings," I confessed, thinking that a hundred -shillings was an enormous sum.</p> - -<p>He put his hand on the handle of the door, and looked at me -entreatingly.</p> - -<p>"They might be looking for you, and you must go; the porter will hand -you all you want to-morrow."</p> - -<p>But I did not go. Pressing myself still harder against the wall, I -looked up at him, and my lips trembled as I said:</p> - -<p>"Are you cross with me for having asked you?"</p> - -<p>"You are a child," he said with great decision; "let me tell you once -and for all that I am your friend, to whom you not only <i>may</i>, but -<i>must</i>, confide all your troubles"—his face wore the entreating look -again—"but go now, please." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> - -<p>I obeyed as if I was in a dream.</p> - -<p>The porter handed me an envelope the next morning, and when I tore it -open I saw that it contained neatly folded bank-notes.</p> - -<p>From that day onward I felt boundlessly grateful towards my friend, -loved him, if such was possible, more than I had done before, and could -hardly control my affection whenever we met. He, however, remained the -same.</p> - -<p>To him my poems were the sole and constant source of conversation, and -perfect though I thought them, he was far from being satisfied.</p> - -<p>Now and again he would acknowledge the beauty of a thought or verse, -and the slightest praise from him was sweet reward to me.</p> - -<p>There were, of course, still times when our opinions differed, when I -grew sulky and obstinate, and even went so far as to behave with the -rudeness of a naughty child. But he never lost his composure; it was -generally his calmness and silence that made me conscious of my fault, -and I never failed to beg his pardon as soon as I had realized that I -was in the wrong.</p> - -<p>He on his part was always ready to forgive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> me, and our friendship was -established firmly once more.</p> - -<p>But in my heart of hearts I was discontented.</p> - -<p>"Why," I said to myself, "does he not tell me the one thing that alone -is able to make a woman truly happy? Why does he not give me the -slightest sign of his love? Or does he not love me?" That question made -my limbs shake as if I had received a terrible shock, and many times I -sat up in my bed at night staring, with my hands crossed tightly in the -darkness around me.</p> - -<p>Was there, perhaps, another girl of whom he thought, as I thought of -him every hour of the day?</p> - -<p>I shuddered at the inexpressible loneliness that would fall to my lot -if such were the case, recalled every word, every look of his, and -lay, testing, weighing, wondering, until all thoughts had merged into -confusion and my eyelids closed.</p> - -<p>One day we had arranged to meet alone. I was so impatient that I -arrived half an hour before the time fixed for the appointment, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> he -was already waiting for me. Both of us had more time to spare on this -day, and I hoped secretly that he might at last speak.</p> - -<p>He did speak, but what he said was not what I had expected to hear. He -told me of his boyhood, of his more mature years, and of a first love -that had left him disappointed with life.</p> - -<p>I listened to all without really realizing what he said, my head -throbbed, my heart ached, recognizing one wish only.</p> - -<p>"There is no need for him to change his manner towards me; all I want -him to do is to let me know," said something within me. I stopped and, -laying one hand on his arm, looked up at him in anguish.</p> - -<p>"Tell me why you do so much for me?"</p> - -<p>It seemed that his face grew pale and stern.</p> - -<p>"Because I am your friend."</p> - -<p>"And is that everything?" I asked again.</p> - -<p>"Everything," he replied, shaking my hand off his arm.</p> - -<p>After that I remained so still that I thought that I heard the beating -of his heart and mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> But all at once a voice roused me, a voice that -revealed to me new depths of his soul, a voice composed of torture and -pain, which bridged the way back to happiness and joy.</p> - -<p>"Do you really want to hear that phrase?" he said. "You are too good -for it; I have made a vow never to remember that you are a woman."</p> - -<p>I stood in silence by his side. My eyes looked into the far distance -and my thoughts measured years to come—years during which we would -give each other all the treasures of heart and soul without ever -getting any the poorer—years during which neither of us would know the -pangs of remorse, the blushing with shame—years during which I would -suffer all that a woman may suffer.</p> - -<p>"Do you trust me?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I answered simply; and we grasped each other's hands in -silence....</p> - -<p>The time that followed now I can never describe. Our meetings, short -though they were, were so filled with embarrassed happiness, with timid -tenderness, that no colour, no brush, no pen, could ever do them full -justice. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> - -<p>But there were hours of quite a different nature too. Hours when -strange moods got hold of us—hours when he pulled himself up, just -as if to shake off something—hours when his eyes lost their tranquil -light, and looked dark and gloomy—hours when the beast was roused -within him. Then I felt and understood vaguely the strength of his -passion, and grew almost afraid of him. If he forgot his vow for a -single moment only, then woe to our friendship and woe to me!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter XIII</h2> - -<p>A whole year passed in this way, and I believe without doubt that I was -truly happy. A dull sense of fear, however, had gradually got hold of -me. No more did I sit down to my books when the children lay asleep, as -my habit had been, but sat crouched in a corner, brooding over thoughts -that would be ignored no longer.</p> - -<p>"What would be the end of it all?"</p> - -<p>I shuddered when I remembered the strange, sad looks he gave me -sometimes. Would it be possible to carry our friendship unsullied -through the flames of passion? And then the question rose again, -which I had believed to have silenced for ever, with many a beautiful -phrase—the question of all Philistines! </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Why does he not marry me? Why not?"</p> - -<p>On account of my poverty, and my humble station in life! But could such -things come into consideration if a man loved a woman truly? And love -me he did, or else how could I account for the interest he took in me, -and for his ever ready and never failing devotion? I tried to find -something similar among the girls I knew. There was, however, nothing -similar. Whenever they touched upon matters of the heart, they smiled a -cunning little smile that only disgusted me, but never made me any the -wiser.</p> - -<p>My poems began to be of a meditative, doleful, over-subtle nature, and -he, round whose figure revolved all my dreams, my thoughts, my verses, -criticized and corrected the lines, that held all the unspeakable woe -and longing of my soul, criticized and corrected them with an odd -smile on his face sometimes, and with looks grave, sad, far away, at -other times. And then there came nights which brought no slumber to -me; nights when I lay awake till daybreak,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> asking myself that one -dull, torturing question, over and over again, until at last its answer -flashed quick as lightning into my brain....</p> - -<p>One day when we met again, he said:</p> - -<p>"I am not quite satisfied with your progress."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Simply that you are treating one subject in your poems over and over -again. That is, of course, not in the least surprising, since you limit -your experience of people and their ways to one place only."</p> - -<p>My heart beat faster, but I succeeded in hiding my emotion, and -answered with some hesitation:</p> - -<p>"I, too, have thought of that already." And then I added still more -hesitatingly: "And I should like to go away."</p> - -<p>We looked at each other now and knew that we lied; but the redeeming -words that were in heart and throat died away before the feigned -indifference on our faces.</p> - -<p>"Where to?" he asked at last.</p> - -<p>But I shrank back now—the die was about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> to be cast; all the dog-like -attachment and faithfulness of my sex broke loose, all the ardent -desire of happiness that had been waiting quietly and submissively for -so long stood up, every beat of my heart, every thought of my brain -said "No." The minutes passed and I made no answer; testing, like a -sounding lead, his looks searched my soul, and all at once I saw how -his lips twisted, and there it was again, the old malicious smile that -I had grown to hate and fear so much. I never understood it before, -but comprehended it now all in a moment. He did not consider me strong -enough to part from him; more, he considered no woman strong enough to -part from the man she happened to love; nay, more, he despised every -woman, every girl that lived, and, knowing that, I knew also, that not -even an atom of his soul belonged to me so far, that the battle which I -had taken up instinctively, as it were, was not yet by any means won.</p> - -<p>"Where to!" he asked again.</p> - -<p>With the quick instinct of someone hunted I realized my position, and -now I smiled in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> spite of the tears that sprang up behind my eyelids.</p> - -<p>"To England."</p> - -<p>"Why to England?"</p> - -<p>"Because I speak a little English and should like to know it perfectly."</p> - -<p>"Do you know anybody in London?"</p> - -<p>"No; that, however, matters little; all that matters is the money for -the journey."</p> - -<p>After that he grew very grave and was silent for a long while.</p> - -<p>"You know," he said at last, "that you have a friend."</p> - -<p>A few days after that conversation I fell ill with inflammation of the -lungs, and had to spend several weeks in the hospital. At last when -I had recovered the doctor told me that I was not strong enough for -a situation, but needed careful nursing and entire rest in order to -effect a complete recovery.</p> - -<p>"Could you not go home for some time?" my mistress asked me.</p> - -<p>"Where was my home?" I thought to myself. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - -<p>But far too proud to tell her, I agreed, and left Buda-Pesth behind me -for the second time.</p> - -<p>My parents had moved to Vienna in the meantime. They had not told me -much about the change, and in my heart of hearts I wondered what the -new shop and the new lodging would be like. When I arrived there, -however, I became very down-hearted. It was a picture of misery and -desolation. The shop was very small and almost empty, and the lodging -consisted of a single room that contained nothing but a little -iron stove, one or two beds, a table, and a chair. Moreover, being -underground, it received but little air and light. My father was alone -at home, and after having greeted him I asked for my mother. He told -me that she had taken a place as charwoman, and would not be in before -eight o'clock in the evening. Without taking off my hat or my jacket, I -sat down on one of the beds and listened silently to all that my father -said. I had heard the same over and over again, and now I listened to -it once more.</p> - -<p>"Do you think that you will have room for me?" I asked at last. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Of course," he replied; "but you will have to sleep in one bed with -the children."</p> - -<p>"Where are the children?"</p> - -<p>"Out making money."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"They are selling papers."</p> - -<p>"As soon as I feel better I will work too."</p> - -<p>"The main point is that you should be well again."</p> - -<p>I looked round the small, badly-aired room.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid I shall never get well here."</p> - -<p>"Since mother is away from home all day long, I am doing the cooking," -he said; "and I think a cup of coffee will do you good."</p> - -<p>After that he broke some brushwood across his knees, and laid the fire -in the stove. But as soon as he had put a match to the stove it began -to smoke terribly.</p> - -<p>"That's only from the draught," my father said apologetically; "it will -soon pass off."</p> - -<p>And so it did, but not before the whole room was clouded.</p> - -<p>My eyes smarted and my throat felt sore, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> I said nothing, and drank -the coffee that my father handed me in a cracked cup. I thought of my -brother, and could not understand how it was that he gave them no help.</p> - -<p>"Where is he?" I asked aloud.</p> - -<p>"Who?"</p> - -<p>"Charlie."</p> - -<p>At that my father grew very sad.</p> - -<p>"It is very unfortunate," he replied, "but he has been out of work for -sometime."</p> - -<p>"Where is he?"</p> - -<p>"He is living with us of course."</p> - -<p>I looked round the room again, and my father, who guessed my thoughts, -shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"It can't be helped; it must do for us."</p> - -<p>Later on my mother came in with the children, who, after having sold -their papers, had watched for her at the house where she did her work.</p> - -<p>When the scanty supper was over, and it grew late, my brother arrived. -I was greatly shocked. He had changed completely. His face looked pale -and haggard, black circles were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> around his eyes, his hair hung wildly -over his forehead, his figure was lean, and his movements had lost all -their former gracefulness.</p> - -<p>I controlled as well as I could the effect which this sad sight had -produced upon me, and shook hands with him.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid," he said, with the same touch of cynicism in his voice -which I had noticed whenever he had spoken to me before—"I am afraid -that you won't very much enjoy staying with us."</p> - -<p>"As soon as I have recovered," I answered, "I will put everything in -order."</p> - -<p>"Put everything in order," my brother shouted, shaking with laughter; -"do you really think that this man"—he pointed to my father—"would -ever allow such a thing? Let me tell you that your honourable papa is -extremely fond of dirt."</p> - -<p>For the second time in my life I saw the vein of wrath swell on my -father's forehead.</p> - -<p>"Stop it!" he shouted; "do you hear?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," my brother replied, and made himself ready to fight. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<p>I sprang to my feet and placed myself with clasped hands before my -father.</p> - -<p>"Pray do not listen to what he says," I cried between my tears and -sobs; "you know that I do not believe a single word of it."</p> - -<p>"For your sake," my father replied; then his clenched fists dropped and -he left the room hurriedly.</p> - -<p>"He is, of course, acting the offended part now," my brother continued -in the same scornful way as before, "and I hope for goodness' sake that -you will not be influenced by this comedian and feel pity, which would -be ill-placed in his case. You have been away these last years and have -had no opportunity to get to know him fully. I, however, see through -his game, and so will you after you have spent some time at home. At -present you may see in me a scoundrel or something near to it, but I -can assure you that although circumstances compel me to live under the -same roof with these common people, I am still the gentleman that I was -before. Schiller says somewhere in his dramas, a jewel remains a jewel -even should it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> happen to get mixed up with dung. As it is, I am a man -whom life has cruelly disappointed only because his ideals were too -fine and his dreams touched heaven. It is true that I am perhaps one -of the most questionable creatures to-day, but wait for half a year, -or say a year—my head is filled with ideas which will, when worked -out, affect like an explosion our entire code of laws, together with -the whole life as we conceive it to-day. Outwardly I am a waiter, a -rogue, or whatever you like, but inwardly I am at work on a kingdom for -millions of beings who now toil away half-starved in obscurity—and -that kingdom of mine holds a crown for everyone."</p> - -<p>"It strikes me that you should first have one for yourself," I said.</p> - -<p>My brother shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"I can scarcely expect you to understand my point, since you are still -too much swallowed up by the mud of your origin, and therefore utterly -incapable of following my ideas. The great doctrine of reincarnation -is all Greek to you, and you can hardly see that according to its -teaching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> I am your brother only by chance. As little do you dream that -most probably I have been a powerful conqueror, or creator of kingdoms, -centuries ago. My great hope of being proud of you some day has, alas, -proved to be as fictitious as all my other hopes have proved themselves -to be, and I must now alone—great men have ever stood alone—carry out -my task."</p> - -<p>My mother, who most probably was used to such speeches, had gone -fast asleep on her chair, and I went out to see what had become of -my father. I found him in a dingy-looking, badly-smelling courtyard, -and begged him to come in. He went back into the room with me, and no -further quarrels ensued that night. Later on my father and my brother -prepared to go to sleep on the floor.</p> - -<p>I had laid myself down on one of the torn mattresses, and had closed -my eyes at once in order to make them believe that I had gone to -sleep. As soon, however, as all were silent I sat up and looked round -in wild despair. My mother, tired of her daily work, slept soundly, -and I listened to her breathing for a while. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> I glanced over -to where my brother lay. He looked now even leaner and taller than -before, and his face, all unguarded, showed such a strange expression -of disappointment, woe, and pain, that for the moment I forgot his -vanity, his brutality, his arrogance. A great pity sprang up within me -for his early-spoiled youth, his strange, passionate nature lashing -him, as it were, never granting him a second's rest nor reconciliation -to his fate. He hated my father because he thought that bad management -of the business had been the reason for all our misfortune. But he was -wrong. I knew for a certainty that my father had given large credit to -people who afterwards did not pay, and the natural consequence of it -was that he himself became unable to pay for the goods he had received. -Besides all that, there were the large number of children and other -matters, which would have melted a bigger capital than my father had -ever possessed. It is true that one might say there was no need for him -to give credit to people who could or would not pay, but he was too -generous and too good-hearted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> to refuse. Being himself a child of the -poor, he understood the bitterness of want, and if he had given way too -much to such feelings, he had, God knows, not escaped punishment.</p> - -<p>I could not for a long time take my eyes from my father and my brother, -who now slept so peacefully side by side as if an ill word had never -passed between them.</p> - -<p>My mother had to leave home very early next morning, and after the poor -breakfast was over, my brother seated himself at the table and called -my two little brothers to him.</p> - -<p>"Come on, you lazy-bones; go and get your books!" he shouted, after -which they produced a few dirty books from a corner. My brother then -commenced the lesson with them; he was, however, very rude, and boxed -their ears for trifling things. Once he gave the youngest a brutal -kick, at which I sprang to my feet and, placing myself with clenched -fists before him, said:</p> - -<p>"Don't you touch him again!"</p> - -<p>My brother fell into a terrible rage.</p> - -<p>"That's the thanks I get from you, I guess,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> he roared, "for spoiling -my whole career in giving up my time to educate the boys, a thing which -it is true you all consider superfluous. Do you believe that I can -quietly see them grow up and become such rogues as I have become, only -because I have had no education? Where are you, you dogs?" he shouted, -turning to the table again.</p> - -<p>But while he had been disputing with me the boys had run away.</p> - -<p>"There you are," he said to me, "they are no more afraid of the devil -than they are of books. Like sire, like son! The boys are not a bit -better than their honourable begetter. However, I trust I shall be able -to steady them yet, and will see who is the master here."</p> - -<p>After he had for a while scolded and reproached me for my -incomprehensible shortsightedness in taking the part of these miserable -boys, he reached down a shabby felt hat and disappeared.</p> - -<p>When he had left my father entered the room; I could see that he tried -to avoid the company of my brother as much as possible. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What are you going to do?" I asked him, because he was putting on a -large blue overall.</p> - -<p>"I am going to tidy the room, and after that I am going to cook."</p> - -<p>He took a broom and began to sweep the floor. I would much rather have -done it myself, but the weariness in my knees was so great that I -could hardly stand up, so I remained seated on the edge of the bed and -watched him silently. After a while I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Have you thought over where I shall go to?"</p> - -<p>"Well, the best thing for you to do would be to go into the country."</p> - -<p>"But that must not come too expensive."</p> - -<p>"You might go up to the mill. I saw uncle last week, and they would -certainly be pleased to have you there for some time."</p> - -<p>My joy was very great. I had not been there for so many years, and the -thought of strolling once more through those lovely meadows filled me -with delight.</p> - -<p>"There is only one thing," my father <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>continued, scratching his head -in some embarrassment, "the fare will amount to at least four to five -shillings, but I must try and get the money somehow."</p> - -<p>"That is not necessary; I have got as much myself."</p> - -<p>"Well, then there are no further difficulties, and if you will tell me -when you want to go I will write immediately."</p> - -<p>I should have liked best to go at once, but since I did not want to -arrive there unexpectedly, I decided to stay at home for a week. During -that week I suffered terribly. The violent scenes between my father and -my brother drove me almost mad with anxiety and fear. I hailed the day -of my departure with the greatest joy, and spent five quiet weeks with -the very aged relations of my mother.</p> - -<p>The pure, lovely air, together with the sunshine and the wonderful -tranquillity all around, soon made me feel better, and I was able to -walk again without pains in my knees. As soon as I felt better I asked -myself: "What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> now?" The thought of remaining at home was unbearable -to me, and yet I considered it to be my duty to stand by my parents in -their troubles. I turned the question over and over again in my mind, -but much as I thought and much as I reasoned, there was no way out. "I -must stay at home," I said to myself, "to work for them, and the sooner -I begin the better for us all."</p> - -<p>With that resolution I returned to Vienna. The conditions of my parents -were, of course, still the same, and I was very anxious to find work -in order to contribute to our livelihood. After looking about for some -time, I obtained a situation during the afternoons to look after a -boy of nine years of age, whose mother had come over from America and -intended to stay in Vienna until January.</p> - -<p>But bravely as I worked, and much as I tried to feel happy and -contented, I was far from being so. The common misery, and more than -that the quarrels between my father and my brother which were ever -sought for by the latter, affected me greatly, and my scarcely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> -recovered health began to fail again. When I came home in the evening -I used to sit down at the small window and stare out in the little -courtyard, which was surrounded by a grey, massive wall, at the top of -which, looking like a roof, hung a piece of sky.</p> - -<p>It happened many times that I still sat there after the courtyard -wall and sky had long become invisible, and a single lonesome gas-jet -timidly streamed forth its cool, pale, trembling rays through the -darkness.</p> - -<p>But when I knew myself alone, I burst into tears—into those tears -which, in spite of all their bitterness, soothe and relieve.</p> - -<p>My mother often looked at me with sorrowful, troubled eyes, but the -only answer I made to her silent questions was a woeful little smile.</p> - -<p>"What could I have told her?" She did not know that another thing -tortured me besides the misery of poverty that we all shared. She did -not know him, nor would she have understood it all. So I suffered on, -and suffered inexpressibly. Now and again I received a letter from -him—cool, formal lines, containing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> sometimes in a light, casual way -the question, "What was I going to do?"</p> - -<p>I read these notes a thousand times, hid them away like costly -treasures, and reflected in a helpless, stupid manner on the wonderful -endurance and submission of a girl's love. And once in the midst -of these reflections I remembered suddenly the little story called -"Morgan" which he had given me first to read—remembered the man -full of restless desire, the dreamer, the idealist, the conqueror, -the despiser, who was by the purity and virtue of a woman brought to -acknowledge "love" at last. And whilst I yet pondered over it, my heart -grew strangely calm.</p> - -<p>"Mother," I said the same evening, "would it not be far the best if I -went away again? I would, of course, send home my monthly wages, so -there would be no difference in the money, and one less to feed."</p> - -<p>My mother gave me a quick, uncertain glance, and said in a singular, -hesitating manner: "You want to go back to Buda-Pesth, don't you?" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<p>I felt my heart beat to my very throat, but my eyes, as they looked -into hers, did not waver. "No," I answered, "I want to go to England."</p> - -<p>At first it seemed that she was relieved from some secret fear, then -her face looked the same again.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it would be far the best," she replied, in the tired, tormented -voice of those who had given up all hope.</p> - -<p>When everyone had gone to sleep, I sat down to write to my friend. -Trembling with excitement and haste, repeating the same thing over -and over again, I asked him to send me the money to go to London. His -answer arrived two days later—lines so full of tenderness, readiness, -and devotion, that the tears thronged into my eyes. "Would I not -arrange to see him before I went away?" he asked at the end. But of -that I would not think. I knew the charm, the power of his eyes, and -trembled for my victory so hardly won.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter XIV</h2> - -<p>London, terrible, magnificent London, to my eyes like a huge monster, -moving countless fangs in countless directions. I walked along, -stunned, benumbed, dazzled as it were, with neither feeling nor -thought, just shrinking a little when I saw the frail figure of a -paper-boy slip through the mass of carriages and horses, risking his -life a hundred times in order to catch a single copper. And yet, if he -had been crushed by the wheels of a motor, or by the hoofs of a horse, -would that have mattered? The wave of pleasure and corruption would -rush onward, and only in a dingy little room a pale, ragged woman might -grow still a shade paler if by the break of dawn her boy had not come -home. And realizing that, something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> within me revolted; I thought of -Him in whose honour we are reverently building altars of gold, burning -incense, and all at once to me He lost His glory.</p> - -<p>Was He not sleeping within a leafy bower, drunk, and forgetful of His -World?</p> - -<p>And was there nobody who dared to rouse and sober Him?</p> - -<p>The next second I was myself again. A silken gown rustled, a silver -horn whistled, and people next to me laughed. Feeling very tired and -shivering with cold, I longed for shelter and rest. At last, after -much asking and useless running here and there, I found a cheap German -home for young girls. My limbs were trembling, and I could hardly -stand when I was shown into the room of the directress. I remained on -the threshold for a few minutes, so sweet and pleasing to me was the -sight of that cosily furnished place. All was softness and luxury; a -profusion of carpets, cushions, and easy chairs around a sparkling -fire. On a little table there was a vase with fresh flowers, and in a -cage near by a little yellow bird was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> swinging to and fro. Next to -the fire there sat an elderly lady, with shawls round her shoulders -and shawls on her knees. I felt like sitting down, closing my eyes, -and saying nothing. However, the lady told me not to sit down because -my wet clothes might soil the covers or the cushions. So I remained -standing, and answered her questions as precisely as I could.</p> - -<p>"Is it a situation you want?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And to stay here while you are looking for something suitable?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"You could hardly have found a better place than our worthy home, but -before I regard you as one of its occupants, I must ask you if you have -got sufficient money to last you for at least two months, in case you -should find no situation before then. Our home is a most respectable -home, and I could not think of taking in anybody with a doubtful -character."</p> - -<p>As my friend had not only sent me enough money for the journey, but -also a larger sum for ordinary expenses, I told the directress that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> -my money would last for the board, but in my heart of hearts I was -determined not to stay there for two months.</p> - -<p>After having settled everything to her satisfaction, she pressed a -button, and ordered the entering servant to take me to my room. This -time there was no need for me to fear that I might soil any covers or -cushions. The room looked cold and grey, and seemed to be as damp and -dreary as the foggy streets themselves. It contained a few wardrobes -let into the wall, a few washstands, and eight beds.</p> - -<p>"Are the beds all occupied?" I asked the maid.</p> - -<p>"Of course," she replied, gazing at me with some surprise.</p> - -<p>A little later the home filled with girls of all ages, and when the -supper-bell rang, the dining-room was crowded with about two hundred -girls. After supper, at which the girls were very noisy, we had to go -into another room for prayer. On a footstool knelt the directress, -with her eyes raised up devoutly to the ceiling. She began to recite a -series of prayers, at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> end of which we all sang a hymn. Then the -directress folded her hands once more, and said:</p> - -<p>"O Lord, take care of all the helpless young girls that are in London -without shelter and protection" ("And without money," I thought to -myself). "Guard their footsteps to prevent them from stumbling, and -have mercy on those who have, alas! stumbled already. O most holy -Lord, grant our humble prayers, enlighten the blind, and protect the -defenceless. Amen."</p> - -<p>She looked very sweet and dignified as she knelt there, with her white -head bowed reverently, and lost in prayer as it seemed. After a little -while she got up and walked out. The girls followed her, laughing and -pushing each other; they went up to their bedrooms, and I now became -acquainted with the other occupants of my room. I did not care for -them. They laughed continually, telling one another shameless stories, -and I knew from their conversation that they were mostly chamber-maids -and had come from Switzerland.</p> - -<p>"Have you only arrived to-day?" someone asked me. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<p>I turned round to the speaker, and saw that she was a girl of my age. -Without knowing exactly why, I asked myself whether she was pretty -or not, and while I answered her, I thought about the question I had -put to myself, and decided at last that she was pretty. She had large -bright eyes and auburn hair; her face was well-shaped, yet there was -something in it to which I could not get used. What it was, however, -I could not tell. She asked me a few other questions, and I inquired -whether it was possible for me to find a situation soon.</p> - -<p>"What kind of situation do you want?"</p> - -<p>"I don't at all mind," I answered.</p> - -<p>"As you do not seem to be so very particular, I think you will find one -easily."</p> - -<p>Later on I noticed that she slept in the bed next to me. I liked her -best of all the girls. When she got into bed she rubbed her hands with -glycerine, that was all. The others took far more trouble in getting -ready for the night. Midst laughing and joking they took off their -false plaits, etc., and throwing the things on their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> beds, they began -to dance about on them. At ten o'clock the light had to be put out, but -the girls became none the quieter for that. They had so many things to -tell each other, and several times, when I was on the point of going -off to sleep, their laughter woke me again.</p> - -<p>By-and-by, however, the stories grew shorter, their jokes less -frequent, and at last they all slept the sound, peaceful sleep of -heedlessness. Although the girls had not made a very good impression on -me, I was glad to rest my tired limbs, and while I listened to their -breathing, my soul filled with almost happy thoughts.</p> - -<p>On the following morning we had to assemble again for prayer, and I -noticed that they were different from those of the evening before. Each -girl having received a Bible, we formed a circle. Then the directress -began to read a passage out of the Bible, and we had in our turn to -continue.</p> - -<p>When it was my turn I read:</p> - -<p>"And of the rest of the oil that is in his hand shall the priest put -upon the tip of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> right ear of him that is to be cleansed, and upon -the thumb of his right hand, and upon the great-toe of his right foot, -upon the blood of the trespass offering."</p> - -<p>At the end the directress again prayed for the "poor helpless girls," -and after that we were free for the day. As soon as I had got up from -my knees, I went over to the directress and asked her to give me an -address at which I might inquire for a situation. She motioned me to -follow her. In her room she sat down, and looked at me thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"You want to look for a place already to-day, don't you?" she said. "I -can quite understand that you are in some hurry; but, as I have agreed -to take care of your soul, I cannot let such an earnest matter as this -one pass without giving you a little motherly advice. So many girls -arrive in London daily, who have left their homes in the sweetness -and innocence of their youth, and who return home quite otherwise. -Therefore I should like to know that you are prepared for all dangers -which might threaten you. Will you promise to pray to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> God to take care -of you, to assist you, to counsel you, to lead you?"</p> - -<p>I promised everything.</p> - -<p>"There, then, are several addresses where you may try to find something -suitable, and I only hope that you will be received into the bosom of a -God-fearing family."</p> - -<p>I thanked her very much for the slip of paper she had handed me, and, -after I had left her, I sprang upstairs to get my hat and coat. Several -of the girls were just putting on their hats, and asked me where I was -going to. I told them, whereupon they replied that they wanted to go -to the same place, and that I might come with them because they knew -the way. Although I felt sincerely grateful for their offer, I was -annoyed at the time they took to put on their hats. There was only one -looking-glass in the room, and this the girls surrounded, adjusting -their hats by the aid of hat-pins, of which they possessed incredible -numbers. Whenever I thought that they had at last finished, they took -off their hats again, declaring that they did not look their best -to-day, and tried all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> means and ways to look it after all. I stood -there waiting for them with my quiet little hat on my head and felt -terribly impatient. I longed to find a situation in order to be able to -leave the home. The others, it is true, did not seem to have a similar -wish. Apparently they were quite contented, even happy, and cared -little whether they got a situation or not. A fair girl who was so tall -that she towered above the others had given a bold sweep to her great -black transparent hat, and was now trying it on.</p> - -<p>"Do you find it becoming like that?" she asked, after which she had -to turn round and round, and was assured eventually that it was very -becoming.</p> - -<p>Just when I thought that she looked horrid, she turned to me and said:</p> - -<p>"Hurry up, little one; we are almost ready."</p> - -<p>"I have been ready for a long time," I answered in surprise.</p> - -<p>But now it was her turn to be surprised.</p> - -<p>"Surely you don't mean to go out like that?"</p> - -<p>"Well, of course." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> - -<p>At that they all laughed, and, after having cooled down a little, one -of the girls said:</p> - -<p>"You don't seem to know London ways yet, and we shall have to do a -little for you. In such clothes you will never get a situation; I can -give you that by writing, my dear."</p> - -<p>"But what am I to do?"</p> - -<p>"Leave her alone," the fair girl intervened; "she who does not possess -chic by nature will never acquire it."</p> - -<p>The others seemed to agree with this, and said no more about me. When -all of them had their hats on, they began to hunt in their trunks and -bags for such things as a pair of gloves without holes, a handkerchief -that was clean, and so forth.</p> - -<p>At last they were ready to go, and I kept behind them in the street -because I thought they were ashamed of me. The remark, however, that -one of the girls had made—namely, "that she could give it to me by -writing," that I would never find a post in such clothes—haunted and -troubled me.</p> - -<p>It was most important for me to find a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>situation as soon as possible -if I did not want to ask for more money from my friend. And that I -would not do. I had sent him a few cards during the journey, but was -going to write him a long letter as soon as I knew how matters stood; -and so full was I with that one thought that to-day I cared little for -what went on around me. Only once when we went over a mighty bridge did -I stop, and look enraptured at a swarm of greyish birds such as I had -never seen before. They were sea-gulls.</p> - -<p>After much wandering which made me very tired and recalled to my memory -the old pains in my knees, the girls stopped at last in front of a -beautiful house and entered gaily. I followed them into a large room, -and on the benches and chairs there sat girls who apparently were also -looking for situations. At a writing-desk an elderly lady and a young -girl were sitting and writing diligently in large books which were -placed in front of them.</p> - -<p>The girls were called up one after the other, and after those who had -been there when we arrived had gone, it was our turn. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> - -<p>The tall, fair girl went up first and sat down with affected dignity.</p> - -<p>"What I want," she said to the inquiry of the elder lady, "Is a place -where I should get enough spare-time to see my friends at and away from -home; also I do not wish to have charge of more than one child, not -older than twelve, and not younger than six years."</p> - -<p>The younger lady at the desk put down the notes; but the elder one -smiled politely, and said she was sorry, but there was nothing suitable -at present. Shrugging her shoulders, my fair friend left the chair, and -another of the girls explained what she wished to get, and what she -did not wish to take. But she, too, was sent away with a polite phrase -only. After they were all told that nothing suitable was to be had at -present, they prepared to go, and went away together without giving me -another look. I felt greatly relieved when they had gone; and because -it was now my turn I stepped near the desk.</p> - -<p>"I expect you have only just arrived."</p> - -<p>"Yesterday." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am afraid you had a bad crossing, you look so pale."</p> - -<p>I told her that I was always pale.</p> - -<p>"What are your requirements?"</p> - -<p>"I have no requirements whatever—all I want is a situation."</p> - -<p>"Have you got any papers?"</p> - -<p>I handed her my reference from Buda-Pesth, and, after having read it -carefully, she folded it up and looked at me thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"Would you mind doing housework?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all," I replied, full of new hopes.</p> - -<p>She reached for one of the large books, and turned the leaves over.</p> - -<p>"Would you like to go in the country?"</p> - -<p>"With all my heart."</p> - -<p>At that she nodded eagerly, and pointing with her finger at a place in -the book, she said:</p> - -<p>"There is something which I am sure that you would like. The lady here -is trying to find a girl who speaks German and who would not object to -do the work in the house, besides being a companion to her daughter -aged fourteen. There is also a young French woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> who is to help you. -What do you say to it?"</p> - -<p>I thought of the eight beds as well as the girls in the home, and said -that I should feel very happy if I could obtain that situation.</p> - -<p>"The lady is coming again at two o'clock, and if you like you may wait -here and speak with her."</p> - -<p>Controlling my joy as well as I could, I decided to wait, and sat down -on my chair again.</p> - -<p>The lady arrived in about an hour. She looked nearly forty years of -age, and was very kind. She only repeated what I had heard already, and -I agreed to everything. Finally she gave me a card with her name and -address upon it, and told me to start two days later. When everything -was settled she held out her hand to me, but took it back again as if -she had thought of something.</p> - -<p>"Have you had your dinner?"</p> - -<p>"No," I said truthfully.</p> - -<p>"Then you must come with me."</p> - -<p>She made me sit down in the carriage in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> which she had come, and a -little later we were seated round a table.</p> - -<p>"What would you like to eat?" she asked me.</p> - -<p>I said it was all the same to me, whereupon she ordered a lovely -dinner and looked much pleased that I liked it. When I had finished -she took me into the street again and looked round for one of the red -motor-buses. She soon spied one and begged the conductor to take care -of me, and to tell me when I had to get out. Then she nodded to me once -more and I rode back to the home. As soon as I got there I went to the -directress and reported my good luck. She, however, looked a little -doubtful.</p> - -<p>"The whole matter is somewhat suspicious," she said; "it has gone too -quick, but all that we can do is to trust in Him."</p> - -<p>I assured her that I did so, and then I went up into the bedroom and -wrote to my friend a letter of some length. The girls who had left the -home with me in the morning returned towards supper-time and inquired -a little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>scornfully whether I had got a situation. After I had told -them of my success they looked greatly surprised and asked me to tell -them all about it. I told them all I knew, and after I had finished the -tall, fair girl again shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>"That is only the place of a kitchen-maid, but for doing the cooking -and scrubbing the floors I am too good, I think;" and while she said -that she turned her hat into another shape.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter XV</h2> - -<p>The little place where my mistress lived is situated on the Thames, -about two hours' journey from London. The lady herself came to meet -me at the station. The house to which she took me stood somewhat back -from the others, near to the bank of the river. Talking kindly all -the while, my new mistress showed me into a large pleasant room, and -told me that this was to be my room. Left alone, I looked round. The -low walls were covered with a pretty light-grey paper, and the black -massive iron bedstead had a cover of similar colour. In one corner -there was a washstand with a grey veined marble slab, and white china -standing upon it. On the right, a chair and a table. The room had two -windows, one of which faced the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>courtyard. The view, however, was -barred by the protruding roof of a shed, overgrown so thickly with -creepers that it looked like underbrush in the woods. That roof I grew -to love immensely, and, later on, I watched with keen delight how its -colour changed from the most tender green of spring to the burning red -of autumn. The second window gave me a view of the garden which was -sloping down to the river, and on the other bank I could see extensive -meadows of a most exquisite green. It was this window at which I leaned -and looked out, after I had, with a deep breath of relief, noticed the -cleanliness and comfort of the room.</p> - -<p>I looked down at the Thames, of which I had heard so often at school, -and for which I received so much scolding and thrashing because it was -so hard to remember whether London or Paris flourished on its banks. I -looked down on the meadows lying soft and dreamy, untouched by the hand -of greed. No tree, no bush, as far as the eyes could wander, nothing -but the free, lovely fields, impressing one with a sense of prosperity -and peace. To me that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> peace and stillness was so pleasing that I -folded my hands involuntarily.</p> - -<p>"Life," I said in a low voice, "wonderful life!" for wonderful I -thought it, in spite of the weariness in all my limbs and the ardent -longing in my heart.</p> - -<p>I was called down a little later and made the acquaintance of the -daughter and the French girl. The former spoke German, the latter did -not. As I myself did not understand French, my fellow-servant and I -spoke English, and spoke it badly. I found out very soon that she was -a most superficial girl who hated thoroughly the work we had to do -together in the rooms and kitchen. Though she was only seventeen years -old she had already flirted a good deal, and whenever we were at work -beating the carpets, washing up the dishes, or cleaning the boots and -clothes, she told me of the men who had crossed her way and been more -or less fatal in her life. After having detailed also the latest of her -conquests, a grocer or a chemist's apprentice, she urged me to tell -her something about myself. But at that I shook my head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> decidedly and -smiled. What could I have told her? That what made me sometimes so -happy and sometimes so sad was a fairy-tale of such wonderful delicacy -that she could never have understood it. And when, regardless of my -smile and silence, she dived again into the waves of her adventures, I -was all the more quiet and worked twice as quickly as she did.</p> - -<p>So time passed away painfully, yet mingled with the blissful hope that -he would come for me some day; unconscious, but not to be shaken, it -lived within me, and innumerable times I pictured to myself how it -would happen. The bell would ring a short, energetic ring, and he would -stand in the kitchen all unexpected and all unannounced. Then I would -take him upstairs to my room, show him happily—like a child shows his -toys—the little forest below my window, the river and the green fields -beyond it, until suddenly he would notice my black dress, my white -apron, and the flowing bonnet-strings—badges of my position—would -comprehend the endurance of my heart, my hands, and silently take me in -his arms. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - -<p>These dreams, however, were the most foolish dreams that I have ever -dreamt.</p> - -<p>By-and-by I learned to know thoroughly the ways of English home-life. -Although my mistress was a widow, she gave all sorts of entertainments -characteristic of English people, such as tea-parties, picnics, and -so forth. It is true that these large and small gatherings doubled my -work in every respect, but I tried to compensate myself by catching -now and again an English word, in order to enlarge my knowledge of -that language, which was poor indeed, since my mistress as well as -her daughter generally spoke either French or German. Yet, with much -zeal and diligence (I studied in English books deep into the night) I -progressed very nicely.</p> - -<p>My mistress always treated me most kindly, but I could not help -smiling sometimes at the relations between her and her daughter. The -fifteen-year-old girl tyrannized over her mother in a most incredible -way. Unfortunately my mistress was convinced that her darling possessed -everything that was needed to make a great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> artist, and did all in her -power to develop the talents of that future genius. It is true that the -girl sang, danced, painted, and wrote poetry, but I am doubtful as to -the merit of her accomplishments. One day, when I was busily beating -the carpets, my mistress rushed out of her room, and looking pale with -nervousness she begged me to stop that noise because Miss Daisy was -about to write a poem. I lifted the heavy carpet down at once, but -thought of my own poems, which still proved to be a secret source of my -scanty joys, and asked myself how many poems I could have written if -absolute stillness was necessary for the writing of them.</p> - -<p>They were composed while I was working, while I was running up and -downstairs, and there was nobody who cared. Nobody? No. Now and again a -letter told me that the one or the other of my poems was exceptionally -beautiful.</p> - -<p>When I had been at my post for some time, a great change happened. Miss -Daisy fell ill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> with scarlet fever. As soon as the French girl knew -about it she left the house.</p> - -<p>"Do you want to leave too?" my mistress asked me.</p> - -<p>"Certainly not," I replied.</p> - -<p>After seven weeks full of anxiety and fear, the doctor ordered the -patient a change of air. All the necessary things were packed up -immediately, and a few days later we looked out on the northern sea. -I had got a room to myself, and was impatient to retire there. The -evening came at last, but tired though I was, I did not think of sleep. -I stepped to the window, opened it as much as one can open a window -in England, and gazed enraptured at the heaving waters, on which the -moonlight glittered and danced. It was very late before I went to bed -on that night, and very early when I got up next morning. Nobody was -astir yet, and I dressed noiselessly. During the night I had had a -strange dream and felt like writing it down. I looked for a sheet of -paper and while the sky deepened from pink into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> red, I wrote a new -poem, and entitled it "Ruby."</p> - -<p>After we had stayed at the seaside for about five weeks we returned -home, and my mistress did not engage a second servant for the present. -My duties increased and I had less time to spare than before, but still -filled the few moments of leisure I could find with the study of the -English language.</p> - -<p>One day I came across a book by Milton, and in spite of my defective -knowledge of the language, read most eagerly his "Paradise Lost," and -was overwhelmed by the picturesque language and by the bold imagination -and grandeur of the whole. Many, many times, also, I looked up the page -on which was written:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"When I consider how my light is spent</div> -<div>Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,</div> -<div>And that one talent which is death to hide,</div> -<div>Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent</div> -<div>To serve therewith my Maker, and present</div> -<div>My true account, lest He, returning, chide;</div> -<div>'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?'</div> -<div>I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent</div> -<div>That murmur, soon replies: 'God doth not need</div> -<div>Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best</div> -<div>Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best; His state</div> -<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,</div> -<div>And post o'er land and ocean without rest;</div> -<div>They also serve who only stand and wait.'"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And each time that I read that poem I fell into a strange brooding -mood. A mood from which later on sprang my greatest defeat and my -greatest conquest. By-and-by I bought the poems of Lord Byron, Keats, -and also of Longfellow, and not a single day passed without my being -able to do a little reading. That does not mean, however, that I read -all the poems contained in a book. Far from it. When I bought a new -book I used to turn over the leaves until I found a poem which I liked -very much, and that one poem I kept reading over and over again. It -happened also that I used to read a poem on account of one passage -only. There is, for example, one poem by Lord Byron, commencing thus:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Ah! Love was never yet without</div> -<div>The pang, the agony, the doubt."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And a few lines further:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"That love has arrows, well I knew;</div> -<div>Alas, I find them poisoned too."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> - -<p>For the sake of these last lines, I wandered through the whole poem -again and again although I did not care for the rest.</p> - -<p>My favourite poem by Keats was:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I had a dove, and the sweet dove died,</div> -<div>And I have thought it died of grieving.</div> -<div>Oh, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied</div> -<div>With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving.</div> -<div>Sweet little red feet! why should you die?</div> -<div>Why should you leave me, sweet bird! why?</div> -<div>You lived alone in the forest-tree;</div> -<div>Why, pretty thing, would you not live with me?</div> -<div>I kissed you oft and gave you white peas;</div> -<div>Why not live sweetly as in the green trees?"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This poem seemed to me so simple, so sweet, that I recited it while I -did the washing or cleaned the floor. It is a habit of mine to recite -a poem whenever my occupation permits it; the even movement of a verse -produces a most soothing effect on me, and I know of no other thing in -existence holding so much grace and sweetness as the symmetrical flow -of poetry. In this quiet manner, time slipped away. During the first -month of my stay in England my friend had written to me often, but -little by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> little his letters became rare; sometimes he kept me waiting -for months, and then I thought that he had forgotten me. At such hours -my longing for him was beyond all telling; how I watched for him and -waited, expecting vaguely that something unaccountable, something -wonderful would happen to bring him to me; and so firmly did I believe -this, that I began to tremble each time the bell was rung, thinking -that he had come. But he never came.</p> - -<p>One day my mistress told me that she had received an invitation to go -to Scotland, but could not take me with her.</p> - -<p>"I think," she said, "as you have not seen much of London yet, you -might like to become better acquainted with the town. So the best thing -for you would be to stay at the home for a few weeks."</p> - -<p>"I don't think I should like to stay at the home," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Why not? That home is a very worthy home indeed, and I feel sure that -you will be well cared for."</p> - -<p>After that I did not dare to say more.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter XVI</h2> - -<p>The preparation for the departure began at once. The next day my -mistress took me to the home herself, commended me to the special care -of the directress, and I lived once more in the room containing the -eight beds. I knew none of the girls and was not at all eager to know -them. However, when I entered the dining-room in the evening I had a -surprise. Somebody called my name. I was much astonished, and asked -myself which of the girls could know me. The one who had called my name -was sitting at the table beckoning to me with both of her hands.</p> - -<p>"Do come," she said vivaciously.</p> - -<p>I did not remember that I had ever seen her, and believed already that -she was mistaking me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> for somebody else, when suddenly it came into my -mind who she was. She was the girl who had slept next to me during my -first stay at the home—the girl with the large, bright eyes and the -auburn hair. I was now glad after all that somebody knew and greeted me.</p> - -<p>"Are you looking out for a situation?" I asked her during supper.</p> - -<p>"No," she replied, "I am living here"; and then she told me that she -was a correspondent for German. I listened and shook my head.</p> - -<p>"I cannot understand how you can put up with it—to stay here for good."</p> - -<p>"Why?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, on account of the sleeping."</p> - -<p>"I am used to it."</p> - -<p>"I could never get used to that."</p> - -<p>"In this world," she replied, "one has to put up with lots of things." -And while she said that, her face grew very sad. When the bell rang for -prayers we stood together, and when the hymn was sung I listened to -the soft melancholy note that trembled in the girl's voice. The next -morning I decided to go to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> the British Museum, since they all told me -"everyone ought to see that."</p> - -<p>It was only a few minutes' walk from the home, so I did not have to -make many inquiries about the way. When I arrived at the entrance I was -charmed with the countless pigeons, which seemed to be quite tame and -fearless, even taking food out of the people's hands. I should have -loved to remain there and watch the sweet, graceful birds, but there -was something within that reproached me for my indifference towards -the treasures of the British Museum itself. In order to quiet that -something, I at last mounted the steps leading to the different rooms. -I am sorry to say that my knowledge is far too small to appreciate -the treasures accumulated in these rooms. I remember innumerable -things, black from age, lying behind glass cases; their meaning and -value, however, I did not understand. When I entered the room with -the Egyptian mummies I felt the same reverence that I felt as a child -on entering a church, and I only dared to walk about on tip-toe. That -respect passed, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>however, the longer I gazed at the dark, lean faces, -and finally they seemed to me to be no more than large babies put in -swaddling clothes. There in front of me, a glass case held the last -remains of a King—a hand adorned with yellow rings. Once upon a -time that same hand had moved imperiously, and a thousand slaves had -trembled at the sign. "Where is thy country to-day—where thy army, -and where art thou thyself, oh mighty King? And what, oh tell me, -became of all thy agonies, and what became of all thy joys?" Thus I -questioned the dark hand with its yellow rings, and the reply I found -was a conviction new to me. That there does not exist a real self—that -God has not finished His creation yet—that we are the means towards an -object, but not the object itself.</p> - -<p>After much wandering to and fro, I arrived at a room that also -contained glass cases, to which large and small pieces of brown paper -were carefully pinned. At first I looked at them with wondering -curiosity, but next minute I was overcome with awe. The brown pieces of -paper were papyrus, which I had often heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> of, but never seen. There -were several of them, but I returned again and again to the one above -which stood the following inscription: "Papyrus with five verses of an -ode by Sappho to her brother Charaxus."</p> - -<p>I could not turn my eyes away from it, and thus it happened that I -went to the British Museum every day for the three weeks, in order to -see the pigeons and the papyrus. I had an idea in my head of stealing -the papyrus, but failed to accomplish that noble purpose owing to -two policemen who were stationed close by, and who began to watch me -suspiciously. Although the papyrus has, as I can see, not yet lost its -old attraction, I must not forget to mention my visit to the famous -"Tower." There, however, I did not care very much for the splendid -armour which decorated the walls, nor for the large diamond in the -jewel-room, round which the public crowded. I left rather quickly -the narrow corridors, together with the gloomy rooms, and sat down -on a bench in the court-yard, contemplating with melancholy feelings -the bright brass plate in front of me, which stated that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> two young -beautiful queens had been beheaded on that spot. The sunburnt leaves of -autumn danced over it to-day.</p> - -<p>I returned to the home rather late from such excursions, expected most -impatiently by the girl who had attached herself to me more and more -closely. By-and-by a friendship sprang up between us, the cause of -which I could never explain. I think it was her eyes, which at times -looked so strangely sad, that had attracted me, and although she had -never confided in me, I felt sure that she was troubled by some secret -sorrow. One day when we sat together and chatted, a letter from my -friend was handed to me. I had been expecting it for a long while, and -was very pleased with it. He wrote that he worked until midnight every -day, and begged me to forgive his silence. He would write more fully as -soon as he could spare time. My friend noticed how happy the few lines -had made me, and smilingly she asked me whether that letter was from -someone for whom I cared very much, and was that someone perhaps a man? -I hesitated a little,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> and then told her about him. While I did so, she -grew more and more sad, and at last she cried.</p> - -<p>"I wish," she said, "I had known you before I went to Paris."</p> - -<p>At that I felt much consternation, and could not understand her.</p> - -<p>"Why," I asked at last, "did you have so little companionship there?"</p> - -<p>"No, no," she said, springing to her feet, "too much—far too much."</p> - -<p>Before I had understood what she meant, the door opened and some of the -girls entered. We therefore began to talk about indifferent matters, -but I could see that my friend was not at her ease. Her cheeks were -very pale, and her smile affected. A few days later I received a note -from my mistress telling me that she was coming back in a week's time, -and that she wanted me to leave the home. This was very bad news for my -friend; she kept with me constantly, and declared that she would not -know what to do when I had gone. On the day before my departure she was -again strangely moved,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> and often began sentences without finishing -them.</p> - -<p>"Is there anything that troubles you?" I asked her.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then will you not tell me?" I said, caressing her hand.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she replied, in a voice more agonized than any I had ever heard. -Then she closed her large, bright eyes, and, as if afraid to hear her -own words, she told me in a whisper something that was very sad.</p> - -<p>After she had finished we both cried.</p> - -<p>"Is the child a girl or a boy?" I asked at last.</p> - -<p>"A girl," she replied tonelessly.</p> - -<p>"And is it living?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>I jumped from my bed and looked at her incredulously.</p> - -<p>"How is that possible? Don't you know whether your child is living or -not?"</p> - -<p>She stared at me with a stupid, helpless look, and my pity was aroused.</p> - -<p>"Tell me everything," I pleaded softly:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> "perhaps it will take a load -from your heart."</p> - -<p>After that she told me everything. How the man had neglected and -abandoned her, how she had faced hunger for nine months to keep her -baby with her, how she had fallen ill at last, and was compelled to -separate from the child in order to save it from starvation. While she -told me all this, her tears flowed incessantly, and I stroked her hands.</p> - -<p>"To whom did you give your baby?" I asked in a low voice.</p> - -<p>She closed her eyes again as if recollecting something, and said:</p> - -<p>"In Paris there is a place where one may leave a child without being -obliged to tell one's name."</p> - -<p>"And there?..."</p> - -<p>She nodded, and leant wearily on the bed.</p> - -<p>"But you must have been mad—now you can't recognize your child again."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes," she replied, shaking her head violently, "I can recognize it -again; each of the children receives a ring of thin metal round its -wrists, and on the ring there is a number." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was silent, and we went down because the bell had rung for supper. We -both ate very little, and when the hymn was sung later, I heard nothing -but the soft, melancholy note that trembled in the girl's voice. During -the whole evening we said no more about the matter. I busied myself -with packing up, and went to bed very late. For a long while, however, -I could not go to sleep. Several times I sat up in my bed and glanced -at my friend. She was lying quite still, and I believe she was asleep. -At last my eyes closed too, and half awake and half asleep, I imagined -that I saw a little girl who played in a dingy yard; she had the same -large, bright eyes, and the same mass of auburn hair as my friend, only -round its wrist there shone a small ring of metal, and on the ring a -number was hanging.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Chapter XVII</h2> - -<p>My way of living became the same again. Now as before I scrubbed the -floor, washed the linen, and looked after the kitchen. Many times -during my work I thought of my friend in London and secretly wished -to be near her. There was one reason, however, why I could not really -leave Marlow. It was this: that I was determined to return the money -which I owed to my friend in Buda-Pesth; that was, of course, not easy -for me, since my wages were only thirty shillings a month, and out of -them I used also to help my parents. It is true that I had sent home -less of late, because the conditions at home had gradually become more -satisfactory, and my brother had also gone away. My parents had not -heard from him for a long time. All they knew was that he had given up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> -entirely the hated profession of a waiter, and gone over seas to try -his luck in another land. In one of his more recent letters my father -had told me that he had received a newspaper from Brazil, containing -the news of a most daring flight made by an aviator named "Aranga."</p> - -<p>Underneath this account, however, the following words were written in -pencil, "Much love to all of you. I shall be all right as long as my -spine is not broken."</p> - -<p>To the above-mentioned purpose I now put away every farthing that I -could save out of the thirty shillings, and the mere thought of sending -my friend the amount of my debt made me exceedingly happy. Now to leave -my situation and find another one in London would have certainly cost -me money, and to spend even a single penny would have been unbearable -to me. About that, however, I made no mention to my friend, but told -him only of my occupation and so forth. His letters became very rare -indeed, and of late contained nothing but reproaches at my apparent -"waste of time." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Have you," he asked, "gone over to England in order to learn how to -cook? There was indeed no need for you to go to London just for that. -You know how much I want to help on your education, and to develop your -talent. Pray do not insist on sacrificing all your time to others. Try -at least to find an engagement for the mornings somewhere in London, -and study in the afternoons. I would, of course, support you in -whatever way you require."</p> - -<p>Tempting though such an offer may have been, I could not make up my -mind to accept it, and so I returned with a sigh to my pots and pans. -But in my heart of hearts I felt like the little boy in the story, who -was for ever wishing that something might come along that would take -him somewhere else. However, nothing came. One month passed after the -other, and sometimes my feet felt very tired. By-and-by my heart grew -weary too, and finally refused to tremble whenever the bell was rung; -no longer did I fear, hope, and believe that he had come at last. But I -was still waiting, waiting at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> threshold of his soul, waiting for -the wonderful moment when it would open, and he would step out to me -with kindness on his lips and fulfilment in his eyes. Sometimes again -there were hours when I almost regretted—hours when my most secret -thoughts seemed to come to life and confront me with malicious-looking -faces. "Why did you go away from him?" they would ask scornfully. Yes, -why had I gone away from him? To get to know different people and -different places? Of course, did not he himself wish it thus? Did not I -myself want it thus? Want it thus? And after every drop of blood within -me had set its "No" against that question, the scornful voices rose -again: "And if you did not want to go away why, then, did you go?" And -all at once I knew it, and my cheeks flushed with an unaccustomed glow, -and my heart was filled with an unaccustomed sorrow. Thus disputing -with myself, time passed on.</p> - -<p>It happened one night, when I could not go to sleep though I had worked -hard all day long, that I lay awake in bed, and thought and thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> -until all good and evil spirits had gathered around me. Like so many -hands they reached down into my thoughts, tugging, pulling, and tearing -them about, and when they had gone, there were red letters floating -about in the darkness of the room, forming themselves to a question at -the end, and the question was:</p> - -<p>"May I come back again?"</p> - -<p>"Why not?" I said, shaking my fists towards the glowing signs; "is -not our friendship so pure, so marvellously wonderful?" ... At that -a wreath of flames encircled every letter, and when I read again I -trembled.</p> - -<p>"That is just why," it said; and behind the letters there rose up a -beautiful, transparent light. But I would neither see the light nor -the writing, and closed my eyes like an obstinate child. Other nights -followed similar to that one, and by-and-by all things seemed to enter -into conspiracy against me. My own self seemed to hate and persecute -me—seemed to wrestle from me the last faint hope, which I would not -surrender. But in moments of greatest anguish he himself would come to -my help.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> As if conjured up by some magic world he stood amongst the -slanderous monsters, towering above them all.</p> - -<p>"Do you believe in me?" he asked, gazing at me with the apprehensive -look and giving me his kindest smile.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I believe," I answered, raising up these words as I had seen, -when a child, the priest raise up the golden monstrance, and at that my -host of tormentors grew quiet, as the congregation did at church.</p> - -<p>Of all that my friend knew nothing.</p> - -<p>Just as we had never in our personal intercourse said anything to -disclose our innermost thought or feeling, our letters remained equally -distant and cool, with perhaps only a line now and again, which failed -to hide our longing or grief.</p> - -<p>But on those lines we lived—or I at least. Those lines held out -to me all and everything—imparted to my soul all the strength and -sweetness that it needed to persuade the weary limbs to do their dull, -daily work once more. And thus it happened that I was sometimes even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> -happy, that, with a smile in my eyes, I cleaned the copper pots until -they all shone, and scarcely felt the cold when, early on a winter -morning, I knelt down to wash the steps outside the house. But the most -beautiful moment was when in the evening I took my little savings-box -and spread its contents on my bed. That money I regarded as my greatest -treasure, always hiding it away most anxiously, and I should have been -inconsolable if I had lost it by any mishap.</p> - -<p>I was determined to leave Marlow as soon as I had saved all the money -to cover my debt, and a little over to last me until I had found a -suitable situation in London. Things, however, did not turn out in -accordance with my expectations.</p> - -<p>For some time back my mistress had intended to send her daughter to a -school abroad, and all at once she made up her mind to do so. She did -not care to live in the large house all by herself, and told me that -she was going to shut it up and travel about. Since all the money I -still wanted did not amount to more than fifty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> to sixty shillings, I -felt much grieved when she told me of her intentions, because there was -no possibility now of sending the money off in a few months as I had -hoped to be able to do. But soon I grew more quiet about it, comforting -myself with the hope of finding another situation very quickly, and of -being able after all to return the money in the shortest time possible.</p> - -<p>Thus it came to pass that I left the house, where for eighteen months I -had been happy and unhappy in so peculiar a fashion; and when I looked -round my room for the last time I felt the tears spring into my eyes, -and I went downstairs sobbing bitterly. After having arrived in London, -I went to the home to see my friend. She welcomed me most heartily, but -could do nothing else for me. The next thing I wanted to do now was to -find a situation in order to spend as little of my savings as possible.</p> - -<p>I called again on the elderly lady who had given me my first post, and -after the usual greetings and necessary explanations she said:</p> - -<p>"Since you have been in England for some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> time, and also possess a -reference given by an English lady, it will not be difficult to find -something suitable for you. What kind of a situation do you prefer?"</p> - -<p>I thought of the sixty shillings which I wanted to earn as quickly as -possible, and said that I did not mind in the least, but should feel -happy if I could get an opportunity to speak a little English.</p> - -<p>"Should you like to take a post as an under-nurse?"</p> - -<p>I had never heard of an under-nurse before, and did not quite know what -she meant.</p> - -<p>"What's an under-nurse?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you would like it no doubt, because the head-nurse is an -Englishwoman, so you would have plenty of opportunity to speak English."</p> - -<p>After that I asked for the particulars, which she gave me in full.</p> - -<p>"It is best for you," she said, "to go there and show yourself to the -lady. If you like the post then well and good, but should you not care -for it, then come back again." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> - -<p>She handed me the address and I went on my way. It seemed to be -tremendously far, and when, after much looking and asking, I at last -pulled the bell of a pretty house, I felt dead tired. A neat-looking -parlour-maid inquired my wishes, invited me to step in, and told me to -wait. I sat down on one of the upright oak chairs, and in my heart of -hearts hoped that the lady might not come immediately. But she appeared -very soon, and was most kind and gracious. After she had asked me a -few questions she told me that she would like to engage me, but could -not do so before the head-nurse had seen me. But the head-nurse was -out with the children, so would I either wait or come again? I decided -to wait, after which she left me to myself, and inwardly I prayed to -God that He might make the head-nurse like me too. A little while -afterwards I could hear much shouting and yelling, and the lady came -in to tell me that the head-nurse had returned. She asked me to follow -her upstairs, where we were met by four boys, aged about five, seven, -nine, and eleven years, who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> come to some disagreement which they -seemed unable to put right. A very thin-looking woman, whom I guessed -to be the head-nurse, tried to quiet them, a task that proved only -successful after she had produced a long cane, the sight of which had -an immediate effect upon the four brothers. The head-nurse put the -cane very carefully into a corner and listened attentively to what her -mistress told her about me. Now and again she looked at me, and with -much comfort and relief I noticed that she seemed to like me.</p> - -<p>The lady then explained to me what I would have to do, and I felt a -growing alarm the longer she spoke. But when she asked me in the end -whether I would like to take the post, I thought again of the sixty -shillings and said I should like to come.</p> - -<p>I started my new situation two days later. If I had no idea of the -position of an under-nurse before, I was to get it now. I found out -quickly that among the four servants of the house, I was considered to -be the most insignificant one, and each of the three other servants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> -made me feel this. Owing to the fact that I spoke English imperfectly, -and neither the cook nor the parlour-maid were fond of foreigners, -they teased and taunted me at every possible opportunity. Furthermore, -they made me do all the work that they themselves did not care to do, -such as bringing up coal from the cellar and so forth. In order to get -on with them, I did everything. But the nights proved to be even more -terrible than the days. I had to sleep in one room with the cook and -the parlour-maid, and many times I set my teeth when I thought of my -own little room at Marlow. The two girls used to chat together until -midnight, relating all about their lovers, and mentioning, I am sure, -every Christian name for boys which is to be found in the calendar. The -one of whom I was the most afraid was the cook. She was terribly rude, -and often raised her hands as if to beat me whenever I did not do a -thing to her entire satisfaction.</p> - -<p>However, every cup of sorrow contains its drop of mirth, and my -happiness arose from the cook's outings and her love-letters. The fact -is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> that when she received a letter from one of her many adorers she -was kind even to me.</p> - -<p>One day a soldier presented her with a silver brooch, and she was so -nice that day to me that I almost liked her in the evening. But when it -happened that a day or more passed without having brought her a token -of some kind she became furious, and her spiteful rage was beyond all -bounds. While I still lived at Marlow I had often stood and watched for -the postman, hoping secretly that he might bring something for me, but -now I stood and watched for him, filled only with the ardent longing -that he might have something for the cook; and I think that now is the -right moment, and here the right place, to express my thanks to all -the policemen, soldiers, milkmen, butchers and others, who were happy -enough to come within scope of the cook's interest and consideration, -for the numbers of letters and cards which they despatched to her -without knowing that they had made me happy too.</p> - -<p>One day there was a great row in the kitchen, and the parlour-maid left -the same day. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> new parlour-maid was a very pale and ill-looking -girl, but she worked very hard. She was never rude to me. I liked -her for that and felt sorry for her because she looked so weak. One -evening, when the cook had her outing, and we lay alone in our room, -the parlour-maid began to sob most piteously.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" I asked her, and after some hesitation she told me -that her sweetheart was lying on the point of death in a hospital for -consumption. Then she pulled a letter from behind her pillow and handed -it over to me. I lit the candle and by its flickering light I read the -lines. Brave yet desperate words of a dying man, together with a poem, -which throbbed with the unspeakable longing for health and life, and -disclosed the most sweet and most lovable thoughts.</p> - -<p>"I am sure," I said, trying hard to conceal my emotion—"I am sure he -will get well again."</p> - -<p>"No; he is there where only the dying are."</p> - -<p>Her eyes were dry when she said that, and only her lips trembled. I put -out the light and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> shuddered. From that evening onward I helped her as -much as I could with her work, although I had plenty to do myself.</p> - -<p>One night she roused us from our sleep with a terrible scream, and -looking round her wildly, she said she was sure that "he" had called -for her. On the morning she asked for half a day off, but she returned -no more.</p> - -<p>After I had been at my post for about six months, I went one day to the -post-office to have a letter registered. The letter was addressed to my -friend in Buda-Pesth and contained the money which I owed to him. But -it contained something else beside that—the outcry of a heart tortured -to death. For the first time I told him of my unbearable position. -He wrote back at once. His letter was full of kind reproaches for my -silence about so many facts—what he termed my insincerity. He further -urged me to leave my place at once, take no situation whatsoever, and -give myself up entirely to the study of the English language in order -to be able to go in for an examination afterwards. He also returned -the money which I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> had sent, begging me to use it for board and so on. -Further sums would follow.</p> - -<p>It happened that it was my day out when I received the letter, and -I went to see my friend in the home. I showed her the letter from -Buda-Pesth, and she greatly urged me to accede to his wishes.</p> - -<p>"I know what men are like," she said, "and I feel convinced that that -man means to deal honestly with you."</p> - -<p>In this way she spoke to me for a long while, and being afraid to take -a new situation on account of the cooks, I at last consented. My friend -then told me that she had thought of leaving the home, and suggested -that we should take one room together.</p> - -<p>"It would be cheapest," she argued.</p> - -<p>I liked the idea because, as she said, "it was cheapest," and thus -it happened that I packed up my things once more and moved into a -boarding-house in London, my heart filled with joyous hopes.</p> - -<p>It is true that it worried me again to owe money to my friend in -Buda-Pesth. I consoled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> myself, however, with the intention to work -very hard in order to pass an examination in the English language -very soon, and then—Yes, and then! All at once I stopped to think. -The old, well-known hobgoblins appeared once more, and sneered and -grinned at me out of every corner. I pulled myself together with all -the self-restraint possible, shook off every thought for the future and -studied very hard.</p> - -<p>The life in the boarding-house was full of interest and liveliness. The -boarders belonged to different races and spoke different languages.</p> - -<p>There were, for instance, Indians, wearing turbans of white or daintily -shaded silk; Chinese, who had, however, sacrificed their pigtails to -the fashion of Europe; a former prima donna who had grown too stout -for the stage, and showed, with much fondness, photos of herself in -stage costumes; a pale, worn-out-looking gentleman from Switzerland who -could not put up with the fact that no English girl—unlike some French -girls of his acquaintance—would undertake the management of his own -household without the usual vows at the altar; a German<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> who could not -stand the English cooking; and a young striving musician who was unable -to pay for his board and tried to commit suicide every Saturday.</p> - -<p>Although the people were polite to me and I liked them very well, -I did not really care to associate much with them. Such, however, -was not the case with my friend, who used to amuse herself chiefly -with the discontented Swiss, in a way that at first surprised, later -alarmed, and finally disgusted me. It happened often that I left the -dining-room without a word, and sat down on my bed in our little room -until my friend came upstairs. She then used to look very gay and began -to tell me stories such as I had never heard from her before, and -which recalled to me the stories of the cook. I responded but little, -whereupon she grew very bad-tempered, and declared I was a dull girl -who could never see a joke. Sometimes I felt some sharp reply on the -tip of my tongue, but swallowed it down again, thinking that I was -perhaps really "dull" and she right after all. I tried to make amends -for my behaviour by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> greater attention and tenderness towards her, -showing also much interest for the stories she told me. In reality, -however, I found everything most tedious, and would have much preferred -to talk about poems. But my friend had declared once for all that she -did not care for poems. Thus I tried hard to keep up our friendship, -which was no more than a comedy, and should no doubt have kept it -up even longer if she had not done something which put an end to my -uncomfortable position.</p> - -<p>I had gone upstairs rather early one evening and left my friend in the -company of the other boarders. I was in bed when she came up at last. -She looked frightfully hot and was shaking with laughter.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" I asked her with affected interest.</p> - -<p>Still laughing, she pulled out a crumpled sheet of newspaper and -straightened it.</p> - -<p>"No, I never!" she exclaimed. "You must read that."</p> - -<p>I looked at the paper and saw that it was French. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How can I read it? I don't know French."</p> - -<p>"Oh well, I forgot; I will read it out to you."</p> - -<p>"But I can't understand it."</p> - -<p>"Never mind; I am going to translate it."</p> - -<p>After that, she placed herself close to my bed and read out a story -which made me furious.</p> - -<p>"Stop, if you please," I said; "I will hear no more of it."</p> - -<p>She laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>"You are only acting now; the truth is that you are anxious to hear the -end."</p> - -<p>"No; I will hear no more," I said decidedly; and because she did not -stop I got out of bed and ran, barefooted as I was, into the bathroom -close by. I stayed there for rather a long while, and when I came back -she was in bed and pretended to be asleep. I knew, however, that it was -impossible for us to live together any longer. We did not speak to each -other next morning. As soon as I had dressed, I went out and took a -room for myself in quite a different part of London.</p> - -<p>I lived now close to Westminster Abbey.</p> - -<p>I had heard much about it already, but had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> not yet seen it, and -determined to visit that place at the first possible moment.</p> - -<p>With my heart beating fast, I stood a few days later in front of its -grey, sacred walls, and a little later I slipped in and mixed with the -swarm of visitors. I did not, however, walk about as they did, but -pressed myself hard into the first corner. Never in all my life had -I felt what I felt then. I was like one spellbound, as if I was in -immediate personal touch with all those who had been there a long, long -time ago, and who were nothing but dust now.</p> - -<p>I roused myself at last and moved on. But I walked about like a -sleep-walker, conceiving only the infinite greatness of all things, -hardly realizing the reality of what I saw.</p> - -<p>After some wandering to and fro I caught sight suddenly of a low, -little wooden door, and thought of opening it. I looked round carefully -because I did not know whether it was permitted (it is permitted), -pushed it open quickly and went out. Yes, really and truly out! Then, -lo and behold! behind that door there was no chapel filled with coffins -or monuments of kings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> and queens, but a garden in the shape of a -square, which, it is true, had no flowers, but a beautiful, well-kept -lawn, and that piece of green garden looked wonderful amid those grey, -massive walls, which, could they but speak, are able to tell the -stories of many a century. A few benches were placed here and there -and I sat down. I knew that the Abbey itself had once upon a time -been a monastery, and guessed that this had been the convent garden. -I imagined that I could see the tall figures of the monks leaving the -dormitory, proceeding slowly over the sparkling lawn, and disappearing -behind the little door to attend their early morning service.</p> - -<p>Whenever I visited Westminster Abbey later on (I am glad to say I did -that very often) I paid my homage first to the tombs, the old, old -coronation chair, the famous stone beneath it, which is regarded as -the stone on which Jacob had slept and dreamt his world-known dream, -the Poets' Corner, and to countless other glorious things; after which -I restrained no longer the sweet impatience of my heart, but slipped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> -through the low wooden door into the convent garden. And seated there -on one of the benches, with my eyes twinkling, because of the full, -sudden glare of light, I used to weave some sweet sad tale of love -around the sombre figure of a proud and handsome monk.</p> - -<p>Apart from these hours of so sweet, restful, and contemplative a -nature, every day was given up to work. I did all in my power to -acquaint myself most thoroughly with a knowledge of the English -language, and made such good progress that I began to compose my verses -in English. It is true that these poems will most probably never secure -me the gratitude of the English people, but nevertheless they pleased -me much, and my friend too expressed his satisfaction with them. He -also sometimes asked me now what I was going to do after I had passed -my examination, whether I was intending to stay in England or to go -somewhere else.</p> - -<p>But to these questions I never wrote any answer, and when I had to do -so at last, a similar cowardice got hold of me to that which possessed -St. Peter when he denied his Master. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Do you think that I may come back?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>Later on I went to post the lines, and when I returned to my room I -found all the old well-known witches again.</p> - -<p>"Is not something that is good beyond questioning—not clear as the -purest water?"</p> - -<p>Thus they whispered into my ear high and low in every scale, and beside -that whisper I could hear the church bell strike every hour of the -night.</p> - -<p>The days seemed to creep to the thrilling impatience within me, and -sometimes I felt a sudden terror at an unknown dread.</p> - -<p>"What will he write to me? And when will he write?" I asked myself over -and over again.</p> - -<p>His letter arrived at last; it was put in a blue envelope and felt like -a weight of lead in my hand. I could not make up my mind to open it, -and wished somehow that I had not yet received it.</p> - -<p>Tearing open the envelope at last, I read the letter, read it again -and again. When I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> dropped the neatly written sheets, there was a -dead stillness in the room. Involuntarily I looked around me. All the -evil spirits had gone. All fear, all cowardice, all doubt had gone. -Something like a cloud lifted from my soul, and then a feeling rose up -to which I could as yet give no name, a feeling which tumbled about -within me like someone aroused from a dream, and finally pressed itself -hard against my throat.</p> - -<p>I put my arms on the table, my face on my arms, and sat still for a -long while. When it had grown dark and late I hid the letter underneath -my pillow, and went to sleep without a light in the room. Once during -the night I sat up in bed and lit a candle, and then I took the letter -and holding it close to the light looked for one passage:</p> - -<p>"If you had remained here, I do not know what might have happened; -if you come back, I know what will happen. But the question is, may -it come thus? You are not a girl of the ordinary type; you belong to -the race of Asra, the people who die when they love. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> because I -have known that from the first, I have done for you what I have never -done for another woman yet—namely, got hold of the head of the beast -within, turned it round sharply and laughed at it."</p> - -<p>I hid the letter again and lay very still in my bed.... That then was -the end of it.... Tired and reluctantly my thoughts pilgrimaged back. -I saw myself again as I was—poor, lonesome, waiting until the moment -when the fairest miracle which life has ever held came to me, and -every thought within me stretched forth arms, as it were, in order to -receive it. I felt once more how every word, every look of his, pressed -itself into my soul like a red-hot seal, and I suffered anew all the -tortures and all the happiness. And all at once I thought again of -the story of "Morgan" and of his young wife.... How truly different -an ending, and yet how similar a victory! For which was more glorious -for a girl—that a man should make her his wife, or make her his most -beautiful dream, and his lasting desire? And all that I vainly tried to -comprehend before I comprehended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> now. "Yes," I said to myself—and I -said it aloud into the darkness of the room—"discontented, restless, -aimless, freed from one passion to-day, and chained to another passion -to-morrow, thus will he stagger through his life. Ever full of desire, -never at peace with himself, he will taste of every pleasure and get to -know every disgust. But above all pleasure and above all disgust there -will be the one longing of his soul, which had denied itself the drink, -because of the dregs it knew to be at the goblet's bottom. Not while in -ecstasy, not in the hustle and bustle of the day will he be aware of -it—nay, but when he lies awake at night, filled with a sense of utter -loneliness, listening to the pouring rain outside, then it will come to -life again, will throb and tremble through his soul, soft and pleading -like an old forgotten strain." And after I had said that, I smiled that -strange wonderful smile, which only a woman knows who is willing to -take upon herself the heaviest burden for the sweet sake of love.</p> - -<p>Next morning I left the house very early and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> wandered through the -streets of London. To-day I knew that I would wander through those -streets many, many times yet, and for a long, long while.</p> - -<p>Once I stopped and entered a grey, small building. It was a Roman -Catholic church. I walked about it aimlessly, and my eyes caught the -picture of Christ in life-size. For the first time in my life, perhaps, -the sight of it stirred nothing within me. What use could He be to me? -Could He comprehend such a thing at all? It is true that He had become -human in order to feel with us, but He was a good man. He only knew -the sins and passions of others, never did He know a sin, or a passion -of His own. Of godly descent. He was endowed with godly strength, with -godly wisdom, with godliness. What did He really know of the nature of -a thief, of a murderer, of a perjurer? And though He had died for the -sake of love, what did He know of the sufferings of lovers?</p> - -<p>I turned away from the picture and went out of the church. I went out -on tip-toe by force<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> of habit, but on my soul dawned the religion of -life, which is older than the doctrine of Jesus ... and all round me -walked its disciples. Men and women who had done with dreaming and -were ready for the unknown hereafter—men with strong fists and hard -looks, by which one could tell that they had battled with life; women -whose faces looked wrinkled and worn, telling their story of hardship -and silent surrender; men and women who in their days of severity and -bitterness had surpassed the miracles wrought by Him, the Galilean; men -and women among whose numbers I was also enlisted.</p> - -<p>And out of that new consciousness arose to me a new wisdom and a new -love—a wisdom which reigned over all former wisdom, and a love which -reigned over all former love. And when I returned with it into my -solitude, the stones began to speak.</p> - -<pre style='margin-top:6em'> -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUE AND ROSES *** - -This file should be named 63947-h.htm or 63947-h.zip - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/9/4/63947/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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